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ME. OLDMIXON 



A NOVEL. 



BT 



WILLIAM A. HAMMOND, 

▲T7TH0B or "LAL," **DOOTOB mATTAN/* XTO. 



NEW YORK : 
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, 

1, 8, Ain> 5 BOND STBEET. 
1885. 



Coptkiout, 188S, 
By D. APPLETON AND COMPANY. 



All riyhU reterted. 



CONTENTS. 



Chapter. paos 

I. Why Barbaba Laughed 5 

II. A DiflCONSOLATB LOYER 21 

III. A Family Picture 89 

IV. Father and Daughter 54 

V. Making a Will— Jack Oldmixon 67 

VI. "What Brought You Here?" 84 

VII. " A Feast for the Gods " 98 

VIII. A Horrible Deed. 112 

IX. A Disappointed Couple 128 

X. Barbara Works and Thinks 146 

XL Jack and His Fox 160 

XII. A Pair op Doctors 177 

XIII. A Tender-hearted Husband 194 

XIV. A Vision, or What? 211 



i' ■ 



IV CONTENTS. 

Chaftbb. yaqb 

XV. The Basilisk and the Weasel 225 

XVI. " I Could Never Mabby Him, Father " 240 

XVII. " Welcome TO Las ATA I" 255 

XVIII. "Why Should She Not?" 269 

XIX. "I Love You" 283 

XX. Reyelationb 297 

XXI. " By Heaven I that Touched Him " 310 

XXII. The Torture is Continued 323 

XXIII. Hogarth has an Idea 337 

XXIV. "Her Heart Sank within Her" 354 

XXV. " Stop, if You Love Me I" 367 

XXVL "My GoDl Which Shall rr Be?" 883 

XXVII. " Everything's Going on Well " 399 

XXVIII. Hogarth is Satisfied 414 

XXIX. Hogarth Makes Several Discoveries 429 

XXX. " The Rogue's March " 445 



' s. - 



MR. OLDMIXOK 



CHAPTEK I. 

WHY BABBASA LATTGHED. 

" Do yon think that head is thrown far enongh back, 
father ?" 

The speaker was a yonng woman of apparently twenty 
years of age or thereabouts. She was neatly but plainly 
dressed, and she was seated in front of a long table or 
work-bench, moulding into a natural attitude the stuffed 
skin of a canary bird that was nearly ready for mounting 
on the little wooden pedestal that stood close at hand. 

The room was evidently the workshop of a taxider- 
mist, for there were lying about it, on tables and chairs, 
and even on the floor, several skins of animals of various 
kinds. There were also half a dozen or more mounted 
specimens in different stages of forwardness. There was 
a Skye terrier ready to be sent home to his disconsolate 
mistress so soon as his hair should have received its final 
combing and brushing, and there was a diminutive black 
kitten, that had doubtless once been the playmate of 
some rich man's little daughter, if a judgment could be 
formed from the fact that there was a silver collar about 
its neck with the name " Georgiana" marked upon it in 
blue enamel lettera ; and there was a bull-dog rather the 
worse for his troubled existence in this world of sorrow, 



8 HB. OLDMIXON. 

with th6 rest of her, jnst as an eye or a hand receives its 
beauty from the soul that flashes through it and the blood 
that courses through its veins and arteries. Nature had 
not been miserly in the matter of quantity ; for although 
it was all^ save a few irregularly placed curls on her fore- 
head, gathered together into a knot at the back of her 
headf it was easy to see that the growth was sufficiently 
luxuriant to excite the envy even of the ^' Fair One 
with Oolden Locks/- had that magniflcent fairy being 
caught a glimpse of it. . 

As to her complexion, it goes without saying that it 
was fair. It was of the kind that red-haired women 
usually have, though perhaps a little paler. The skin 
was of course thin and delicate, so tliat under the influ- 
ence of the adequate emotions it would blush or becojne 
pallid with a promptness and a thoroughness that would 
leave nothing to be desired on the score of passional 
manifestation. 

As she uttered the words with which this chapter be- 
gins, the faintest beam of a smile passed over her counte-^ 
nance ; and then it was seen that her eyes lighted up with 
a wonderful beauty that in their condition of repose they 
gave to the commonplace observer, such as my friend,* the 
admirer of Madame F^licie's lay figuresi, no indication 
of being able to exhibit. But the artist, the poet, and 
the man with brains would not have been surprised ex- 
cept, perhaps, at the extent of the change. He would 
have known all along that the power of expression was 
there, not only in her eyes, but in every feature of her 
face. It was that knowledge that would have made him 
want to look more than twice at her, hoping that, some- 
thing would stir her emotions or her intellect, and bring 
out the latent beauty that lay hidden in her face. 



WHY BAEBARA LATTGHED. 9 

And tlie like was true of her month, that most expres- 
sive of all the features, not even excepting the eyes. As 
she spoke and smiled, the parting of her lips showed two 
rows of white and regular teeth, that appeared to be as 
satisfactory from a masticatory as they evidently were 
from an aesthetic point of view. There is no middle 
ground so far as teeth are concerned. They are either 
good or they are bad. If they are not the one they are 
assuredly the other. This girl's teeth were good. 

It must have been something remotely connected with 
the bird she was mounting, rather than the bird itself, that 
made her smile. The work of the taxidermist is not 
particularly enlivening' any more than it is especially 
healthy. Indeed, the continual handling of the skins of 
dead animals must tend, one would think, to produce a 
melancholy, or at least a grave frame of mind, just as 
the contact with arsenic, corrosive sublimate, and other 
poisonous but preservative substances is calculated to 
exert a deleterious influence on the bodily health. Bar- 
bara Henschel had, however, evidently beien endowed 
with sufficient mental and physical stamina to resist both 
cat^ories of depressing influences, for she was sound of 
health in mind and body. Her organs worked with all 
the regularity of a dynamo-electric engine, and the con- 
sequence was that she had the superlatively healthy body 
that insures the superlatively healthy mind. 

Tes, there must have been something directly or indi- 
rectly tbBsociated with the bird that tended to excite her 
risible faculties ; for as she moulded the plastic form of 
the little creature with her slender fingers, and scanned 
it from time to time with a critical eye as she pursued 
her work, her face appeared to be €k>nstantly on the 

point of again relaxing into a smile, until at last, unable 
1» 



10 MB. OLDMLXON. 

to restrain herself, she dropped the object of her skill 
and, throwing herself back in her chair, burst into peal 
after peal of merry laughter. 

The old man who was working on the royal Bengal 
tiger at the other end of the room now ceased his labor, 
and, raising his spectacles from his nose, looked at the 
girl in utter astonishment. As the laughter continued, 
he rose from the bench on which he was sitting and 
softly walked over to where she was at work. He stood 
behind her for a moment, looking over her shoulder at 
the bird that still lay on the table. Then he picked it 
up and carefully examined it, holding it in various posi- 
tions, adjusting now the head and again a wing, but so 
slightly that no appreciable change was made in the atti- 
tude as given by his daughter. 

" I don't see anything to laugh at," he said at last to 
the girl, who had in the mean time ceased to manifest her 
mirth, and was, with him, looking critically at the bird. 
" It's very well done, much better than I could have done 
it, and I've been at the business close on to sixty years, 
as apprentice, journeyman, and master. You've got the 
true instinct of the artist, my dear. Ah, how often have 
I told you that the art of the taxidermist is as high and 
as subtle as that of the sculptor ! Look at that bird I 
Could the English Lawson, or the French Barye, or even 
the American Kemeys, who stands a head and shoulders 
above them all, have done better in marble or bronze ? 
Couldn't you swear that it was just about to pour forth 
its piping notes — indeed, that you must have suddenly be- 
come deaf, for that otherwise you would certainly hear it 
singing away at the top of its little voice ? You can see 
the delicate throat swell with the expansion of the larynx, 
and almost move as it varies the inflections and tones of 



WHY BABBABA LAUGHED. 11 

the notes that yon are sure are coming out. Can the 
sculptor do as much with his claj as you have done with 
the skin of that bird and a little cotton wool ? Ah ! my 
dear, you are an artist, a true artist, for you know how 
to interpret and to depict nature, and to put into your 
work a living spirit." 

" I'm glad you think it's good, father, I'd rather 
please you than all the rest of the world, for you know 
what is good and true in art ; and if I've been able to 
get a little of your inspiration, I am satisfied." 

** What I know, Barbara, I've acquired by hard work, 
with stem necessity to urge me on rather than genius. 
But you could not remain idle if you tried, for you have 
a soul that needs no spurring to make it plunge forward 
in the race of life. But you must go away from here to 
some place where you will have a chance to expand. 
Here you will never be appreciated by the public. 
You'll always be regarded just as I am— as a mere ' ani- 
raal-stuffer ' — and you'll wear out your young life in the 
old shop mounting pet birds and dogs and cats, without 
ever getting even the name of ' artist, ' while others with 
a tithe of your talent and none of your genius carry oflE 
the prizes of life. " 

" But, father dear," said the girl, patting his cheeks 
with both hands as she stood erect before him and looked 
fondly into his face, ^^ I'd rather work here with you 
than to go away and try to be great. Perhaps, after all, 
I'd fail, and then where would we both be ? No, no ; 
let me stay with you. I like my work, and I like to be 
with you ; I'd rather be happy than famous." 

" Ay, girl, that's all very well," nwumeJ the old 
man, stroking her red hair with his old withered hands, 
and lingering over the action as though it afforded him 



12 HB. OLDMIXON 

infinite pleasure ; ''far be it from me to drive you away 
from your old father, for you are a good girl, Barbara, 
a good girl, and you've always been good since the day 
you were T^om. But you might be famous and happy 
both, my dear. How would you like that ? Famous 
and happy ! For, you see, fame brings money, and 
what would we be without that ? There's a good deal 
of competition now in our business, and I'm getting old ; 
and though I'm good yet, it won't be very long before 
I'll have to give up. Not but that you could carry on 
the work. I know you could. Professor Kicketts at the 
Museum told me the other day that the flock of quails 
you mounted for him was the most artistic group of birds 
in the collection. 1 heard him pointing out its beauties 
to several ladies when he didn't know I was standing be- 
hind him, and he said there wasn't a taxidermist in 
Europe or America that could equal it. That's high 
praise from him, for he's seen all the famous museums 
of the world. But, after all, what is it ? He and you 
and I know that no one but an artist could turn out 
such a gem ; but to the world it's only a piece of bird- 
stuffing, with which your name is not connected. He 
paid a good price for it, though — ^good, that is, for our 
work ; but if it had been in bronze you'd have got a 
thousand dollars for it." 

*' Then let me stay, father. When you get too old 
to bother yourself with work I'll carry it on, and all 
you'll have to do will be to give me your advice and in- 
struction." 

" Ay, but I want to see you famous before I die. 1 
want to see your name in the newspapers. I want to 
hear people talking of the great artist Barbara Henschel. 
I want to see your work in the exhibitions and engraved 



WHY BARBABA LATTGHED. J3 

for the illustrated magazines, with biographies of yon, 
and yonr portrait at the head of the 'articles. Then I 
think 1 could die in peace. And I wouldn't leave you a 
pauper either, Bab. IVe got a nice little sum all for 
you, dear ; enough, too, to keep you in comfort while 
you are studying, so that the wolf would never be at 
your door. Old Christian Henschel hasnH been a taxi- 
dermist for more than half a century for nothing.'^ 

" Then you shall give up work whenever you choose. 
We'll buy a little farm like the one near New Rochelle, 
that you were looking at last summer. Peter shall look 
after the shop and do the hard work, just as he does 
now ; and I'll come into town every day and do the 
mounting. Then, you see, I could bring out with me 
the smaller animals, and you could show me how to dis- 
play them to the best advantage. Wouldn't that be 
nice?" 

*^ Yes, yes, very nice ; but it would be still nicer if I 
Was to sell the business to Peter, and instead of your 
coming to town every day to stuff animals, you came to 
take lessons in sculpture from Mr. Maurice. I was 
speaking with him about it yesterday, and he said noth- 
ing would give him greater pleasure than to have you as 
his pupil ; and then in a year or two you should go to 
Europe and study the works of the great masters. I've 
enough to pay for it all — oh yes, quite enough." 

" And leave you here ! 1 couldn't do that, father." 

** I didn't say that, my dear," said the old man, with 
a low laugh. ** As 1 get older a longing to see old 
"^ Denmark again comes over me. We have glorious 
' sculptures in Denmark. There is no one since the an- 
cient Greeks that has equalled Thorwaldsen. We'll go 
together, and perhapft spend a year in Copenhagen. 



14 MB. OLDMIXON. 

Wouldn't yon like that better than wasting your talent ?n 
staffing pet canary birds ?" 

" Perhaps I would, father," answered the girl, while 
her face showed the pleasure that the picture held up by 
the old man gave her, ** if I thought — " 

" If you thought I'd like it too ? That's what you 
wore going to say. You think too much of me, and not 
enough of yourself. My race is nearly run, yours is 
scarcely begun. I can never be anything more than I 
am — an * animal-stuffer,' as they call me — while you can 
be, and, please God, you shaJl be, the admiration of 
kings and emperors, and, better still, of artists. Think 
of it, dear ! think of it ! There's time enough ; I'll 
give you a month from to-day to decide." 

" O father, you're so loving and kind to me !" she 
said, while her eyes filled with tears. ^' I'll try to do 
what's right for your sake." 

" In one month, then, from this day and hour you 
shall give me your decision. But you haven't told me 
what you were laughing at," he continued, laughing 
himself at the idea of his forgetfulness. '' It's not often 
that you laugh so heartily as that. It put me quite in 
mind of your poor mother, of the time when she was a 
Danish peasant girl and I was a journeyman taxidermist 
for old Easmus Olafsen, in Copenhagen, nigh on to fifty 
years ago. Yes, she laughed just like that ; just like 
that fifty years ago." 

The old man seemed for a few moments to be entirely 
overcome by his recollections of the past ; and then, 
without waiting to be told the cause of his daughter's 
mirth, he shuffled back to his work on the royal Bengal 
tiger. 

** Then you don't care to hear what I was laughing 



WHY BABBABA LAUGHED. 15 

aboat ?" inquired Barbara, as siie picked up the bird and 
began to adjust it to the little perch on which it was to 
stand. " You know 1 always see the funny side of 
everything." 

*' Oh yes, 1 want to hear ! You're a jolly girl, Bab. 
Sometimes 1 think that, in view of all the serious matters 
of life, you are too light-hearted ; but it's good for you, 
after all, perhaps. When your mother was Olga Hei- 
berg, she was always laughing at something ; but after 
she married me and came to America she tasted the reali- 
ties of life — mostly sorrows, as they are — to their full. 
We had a hard time of it here the first three or four 
years after our arrival. There was very little demand 
then for my work, so that we suffered ; but, thank God ! 
we conquered a good place in the world at last." 

" That was because you knew more about taxidermy 
than any one else in the country ; because you had an 
artist's eyes and head, and because you were not afraid 
of work. Now you have orders from all parts of the 
United States." 

^' Yes, and have had for thirty years. That tiger is to 
go to the Academy of the Natural Sciences in Philadel- 
phia, and that omithorhynchus to the Museum of Com- 
parative Anatomy in Cambridge. Oh, I've had orders 
from Mexico and South. America, and Europe, too ! 
We'll see some of my work in the Prindsens Palace in 
Copenhagen. I sent a buffalo to it last year — the only 
specimen of the animal they have ever had. Yes, 
they've plenty of my work in Europe, and they've paid 
pretty well for it, too, as prices go in our business. I 
got three hundred dollars for the buffalo, but it cost me 
fifty to get the skull and the skin." 

He went on with his work at the tiger after this speech, 



16 MR. OLBMIXON. 

while Barbara, having finished mounting the canary, 
placed it nnder a glass shade and went to where her 
father was sitting snrvejing the result of his labor. 

" I haven't told you yet what 1 was laughing at," she 
said, with a smile on her face. " 1 don't believe you 
care to know.'' 

" Yes, yes, I do I" exclaimed the old man, with 
every appearance of interest. *' I forget ; my memory 
is very bad, and it gets worse every day. Things that 
took place sixty years ago I recollect as distinctly as 
though they occurred only yesterday ; but the things of 
the moment escape me. I was talking with Professor 
Laird about it yesterday, and he said that I don't register 
impressions as well as I did. My brain is not so sensi- 
tive. You see, my dear, I'm over seventy years of age ; 
but I'm a pretty strong old fellow for all that, and my 
eyes, when I've got my glasses on, are just as sharp and 
just as true as ever. Now, look at that tiger 1 Isn't he 
splendid ? How they'll crowd around him at the 
Museum next Saturday I I have the consent of the 
Academy of the Natural Sciences to show him at the 
Central Park Museum before he goes to Philadelphia. 
But then," he continued, as he resumed his seat on the 
bench, while Barbara remained standing by his side witli 
one hand resting on his shoulder, " what were you laugh- 
ing at ?" 

^^ I was thinking," answered Barbara, laughing again 
at the remembrance, but not so heartily as before, ^' of 
the old gentleman that brought the bird here to be 
mounted. He was very old— oldqr than you, father, but 
dressed like one of those young men that we see in the 
Park driving his horses tandem and with a pretty young 
lady by his side. He told me all about the bird, and he 



WHY.BARBABA LAITGHED. 17 

wept over his story as though his heart were deeply 
touched ; as it was, no doubt." 

^' But, Barbara, my dear, it isn't kind to laugh at the 
grief that a person feels when a pet animal has died. 
It's strange how these dumb creatures do creep into our 
hearts ! And it's well for us that it's so, for more than 
half of our work comes from the mounting of dead pets. 
Yes, a good deal more than half. It's an honorable 
feeling, and we should be the last ones to laugh at it." 

^^I wasn't laughing at his grief, father, but at the 
story he told ; and it was so strange that he should 
have told it to me, a perfect stranger. He lives opposite 
to a very beautiful young lady, and he's in love with 
her. He's seventy-five if he's a day, and she's my age. 
He's an old bachelor and, as he told me, has been in love 
more than forty times, but could never quite make up 
his mind to propose. And so some young fellow has at 
last, in every case, come along and married the lady, or 
else she has died while he was trying to get his courage up 
to the point of asking her to be his wife. He says there 
are over forty ladies, any one of whom could have been 
his wife if he had had the daring a man ought to have. 
The oldest is seventy-four and the youngest twenty." 
And again Barbara laughed. 

*^ He seems to have a brave enough idea of his power 
as a lady-killer, and I think he's an old fool !' ' exclaimed 
Mr. Henschel, with some degree of irritation in his 
voice. *^ He ought at his time of life to be thinking of 
the grave instead of marriage, and to a woman of 
twenty at that I" 

"Well," continued Barbara, "the young lady who 
lives opposite to him had a canary that she prized very 
highly, and that every morning, in full sight of her old 



18 MR. OLDMIXON*. 

admirer, she hung out of her window. Then he used to 
sing while the gentleman sat at his window and listened 
to each note, as though it came, as he really imagined at 
times it did, from the lady herself." 

'* What, you don't mean to say that he was quite 
such an old idiot as that !" 

" Yes ; that's exactly what he told me. It seemed to 
him as though the bird were telling him what the lady 
had said, and he used to sit behind the curtain of his 
window and listen to it till the sun got round and the 
lady took the bird in." 

^* He imagined the bird to be a medium for the lady 
to communicate her thoughts to him ?" 

" Yes, that was it." 

" But did he have no way of replying ?" 
• " That is coming. Every day the bird used to sing, 
and, as the heart-sick swain imagined, tell him that his 
love was returned, and that all he had to do was to ask 
for the lady's hand, and that she would gladly give it to 
him with her love. But for all that he could not muster 
up courage enough to do as he thought he was told. In 
fact, he had never spoken to her in his life, and did not 
even know her name — her first name, I mean. " 

'* He's a lunatic, my dear ! Oh, there's no doubt of 
that I When I was a boy in the little village of Thune, 
where I was born, there was an only man named Jan 
Petersen, who used to think all the birds were talking 
to him. Hour by hour he'd sit in the fields listening 
to them and talking back at them. At last he got to 
throwing stones at them, for he thought they were abus- 
ing him ; and one day a stone that he threw at a thrush 
struck a little child in the head and killed him. Then 
they shut Jan Petersen up in a lunatic asylum, and 



WHY BABBARA. LAUGHED. 19 

that's what they'll do with your old beau if he doesn't 
mind." 

" I shouldn't be surprised. But hear what he did. 
He was too bashful to talk to the lady, but he bought a 
canary bird and hung its cage up in his window and 
talked to it of his love for the lady while he was sitting 
behind the window curtain. Then, when the bird sang, 
he thought it was telling the lady's bird liow all its words 
of love were reciprocated, and that thus she would know 
the state of his heart. But one day the lady left the 
door of the cage open, and her bird flew away and came 
across the street ; when, finding the window open, it 
went into the old gentleman's room. The moment he 
saw it he shut the window and opened the door of his 
own bird's cage, hoping that the lady's bird would go 
in. It did go in just as he hoped ; but no sooner had it 
entered than the other bird flew at it, and, before the 
gentleman could interfere, had killed it. This was the 
end of that love affair, and that is the bird that I have 
just mounted. His only happiness now consists, he says, 
in thoughts of the past. He never intends to fall in love 
again, but he means to soothe his troubled spirit by look- 
ing at the dead canary under a glass shade. It isn't a 
bad story ; but the idea of that spruce-looking and dandi- 
fied old gentleman thinking of his lost love by gazing at 
a dead canary made me laugh." 

"He's an old fool." 

" He'll be here in a few minutes to get his bird. He 
said he preferred to call for it rather than to have it sent 
home. Oh, there he is now !" as a carriage drove up to 
the door of the office — the front room of the establish- 
ment — " and Peter is talking to him." 

" Mr. Oldmixon would like to see Miss Barbara," said 



20 MB. OLDMIXON. 

a young man^ appearing at the glass door that opened 
from the show-room and office into the work-shop. 

" He only wants his bird, Peter, and there it is. The 
price is five dollars." 

Peter took the bird, and passed with it into the front 
room. 

" Five dollars for that work of art 1" exclaimed Mr. 
Henschel ; " it's worth fifty." 

But at this Barbara only smiled. 



CHAPTEE II. 

A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 

Although the door between the two rooms was closed, 
Mr. Oldmixon's expressions of delight at the appearance 
of his bird were so loud that it was impossible for Bar- 
bara and her father to avoid hearing them, in part, at 
least. Mr. Henschel's face lighted np with pleasure. 

" Ah !" he said, in his slow, deliberate way, ^' he's 
not such a fool as I took him to be. He knows a good 
thing when he sees it. You did not charge him enough 
for it, my dear.' ' 

" Five dollars seems enough for an hour's work, 
father." 

" But the genius 1 the genius, my dear ! You should 
charge for that, not for the mere manual labor that 
you put on your work. Unless genius is charged for, 
Meissonier would get no more for a picture than would 
a sign painter ; not so much, in fact, for he puts a few 
hours' work on a piece of canvas, while the sign painter 
is several days at his job. But the one gets ten thousand 
dollars, and the other the thousandth part of that sum." 

" But there is only one Meissonier, while there are a 
dozen taxidermists here in Nevr York alone." 

'^ Ah ! but only one Barbara Henschel. You should 
assert yourself, my dear. The world generally takes a 
person at his or her own valuation." 

*^ Mr, Oldmixon would like to see Miss Barbara," said 



22 MR. OLDMIXON. 

Peter, putting his head in through the half-open dooFj 
and instantly withdrawing it. 

"1 don't want to see him, though,'' exclaimed Bar- 
bara, with a little tinge of vexation in her voice. " Why 
can't he take his bird and go I" 

" Oh, see him by all means !" said her father, with 
something of an imploring tone in his voice. " He may 
want to give you a more important order. Never neg- 
lect business, my dear. While we are taxidermists, let 
us not be forgetful of our interests." 

Thus adjured, Barbara gave a little look at herself in 
a rather dilapidated mirror that hung on a nail driven 
into the wall, and without further words went into the 
front room. 

*' I am everlastingly obliged to you, Miss Henschel," 
said Mr. Oldmixon, in a melancholy voice, as soon as he 
caught sight of her. " I felt that I could not go away 
without thanking you in person for the beautiful manner 
in which you have mounted this poor bird. It h the 
one thing that is loft of my — my — Would you mind 
asking your assistant to leave the room for a moment ?" 
he continued, in an altered tone. ^' Thanks," as Peter, 
without waiting for a stronger hint, went out, shutting 
the door after him. " My unhappy passion," resumed 
Mr. Oldmixon, in the lugubrious accents with which he 
had begun — " unhappy in more ways than one, and to- 
day rendered additionally hopeless." 

As he finished speaking Mr. Oldmixon took from the 
breast-pocket of his coat a cambric handkerchief with a 
wide black border, and gently pressed it to his eyes to 
absorb the tear that stood in each. Then he very care- 
fully folded and returned it to its place, leaving just the 
least bit of the black border visible. 



jai^ , 



,<^ - ***. 



A DISCOirSOLATE LOVEB. 23 

He was certalnlj seventj-fi^e years of age if he was a 
day, as Barbara had said. In stature he was scarcely 
five feet, bnt was as prim and as neat as though he had 
just stepped ont of a band-box. He had removed his hat 
on Barbara's entrance, and had thns displayed a head 
absolutely as devoid of hair as was the palm of his hand. 
His face was shaved clean of all capillary growth, and 
was as red as a boiled lobster^ as was also his scalp ; and 
this hue extended down his neck as far as his clothing 
permitted it to be seen, and doubtless a good deal far- 
ther. He was dressed in the height of fashion, and with 
an affectation of youthfulness that was ludicrous when 
contrasted with his evidently advanced age. He sported 
a bine neektie, with a Eoman gold pin representing the 
head of Medusa, and wore salmon-colored gloves and 
patent-leather shoes, that he kept tapping with a slender 
cane all the time he was speaking. Altogether he was a 
very extraordinary-looking personage, though certainly a 
gentleman, and entirely sincere in the emotion he was 
showing. 

For a moment Barbara scarcely knew what response to 
make to this declaration of his unhappiness ; but she was 
a quick-witted young woman. She really felt sony for 
him, and she was ready to sympathize with him, or any 
one else, in fact, that suffered in her presence. She 
thought it better, however, after a little reflection, to 
ignore the existence of his grief ; so she answered very 
gently that she was glad he liked the bird. 

'' Of course I like the bird ! It is beautifully, most 
artistically mounted, and I thank you from the bottom 
of my heart for all the care you have given to the — the 
—carcass, shall 1 say ? — of my poor little friend. ' ' Then 
he again took th^ handkerchief from his pocket, again 



24 ME. OLDMIXON. 

mopped Tip the standing tears^ and again, folding it ex- 
actly in the creases the laundress had given it, put it 
back into his pocket. 

" May 1 sit down, Miss Henschel ?" he asked, after he 
had completed these actions;. " My feelings quite over- 
power me." 

'* Of course, Mr, Oldmixon,'^ said Barbara, bringing 
a chair and placing it by his side. 

Mr. Oldmixon regarded it for a moment somewhat 
ruefully, then he looked at Bal*bara, and then glanced 
slowly around the room. Espying what he had evi- 
dently been looking for — another chair — he made a dash 
for it, and, though it was heavy and apparently about as 
much as he could comfortably lift, brought it to where 
Barbara was standing. 

" I never sit while a lady stands," he said, with a low, 
old-fashioned bow and a little wave of his hand toward 
the chair. ^' 1 wouldn't do such a thing if I were dying 
of fatigue. Will you kindly be seated. Miss Henschel ?" 

Barbara blushed a little at this attention, and sat down. 
Mr. Oldmixon couldn't blush any more deeply than was 
his natural manner, even had he felt like doing so ; but 
he followed Barbara's example so far as sitting down went. 

"Miss Henschel," he said, after he had crossed one 
leg over the other, while he continued lo switch first one 
shoe and then the other with his slender cane, " 1 am 
about to make you a very important communication, no 
word of which must ever pass your lips except so far as 
your father is concerned. Always confide in him. A 
daughter can have no better friend, at least till she is 
married to a good man, than her father. Tell him as 
much as you choose, but be silent while I live to every 
one else." 



A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 25 

Barbara started. The idea flashed through her mind 
that he was gomg to do what he never had had the 
requisite courage yet to do — make her a proposal of mar- 
riage. He had ab*eadj intimated that his late afiEair had 
had an unhappy termination. His manner was so im- 
pressive and, at the same time, so mysterious, that it was 
not strange that such a notion should occur to her. Be- 
sides, she had strong reasons for believing that he was 
not entirely of sound mind. She did not believe him to 
be insane, but she was quite sure that he was very eccen- 
tric, and therefore of that form of mental constitution 
that prompts to the doing of singular and erratic deeds. 

But a moment's consideration sufficed to show her that 
such an act on his part was not very probable. In all 
the instances — over forty in number, or, to be precise, 
forty-three — ^in which Mr. Oldmixon, according to his 
confession made to her a few days ago, had been in love, 
he had never been able to. master sufficient heart to de- 
clare his passion. It was scarcely probable, therefore, 
that if he were in love with her — of which, indeed, he 
had given no evidence — ^he should all at once find his 
courage developed to the extent requisite for making a 
matrimonial offer. What he had failed in doing forty- 
three times he would not be likely to succeed in accom- 
plishing on the forty-fourth occasion. Forty-three 
defeats argued the existence of a constitutional peculi- 
arity that no mental efforts could subdue. The soldier 
who has run away in forty-three battles could not possi- 
bly fight bravely in the forty-fourth. Besides, as she 
watched him while he was speaking, she saw that he 
was in a condition of nervous trepidation that was almost 
pitiable to behold. Not only was he slashing his patent- 
leather shoes with his cane, but his face was twitching as 
2 



26 ME. OLDMIXON. 

though each individual muscle were tacked on to a wire 
through which an interrupted galvanic current were pass- 
ing. No, he could not be about to venture on a declara- 
tion of love. If he were, he would certainly break down 
before he began. Besides, there was an accent of sorrow 
in his tone that was incompatible with the joyousness 
that should accompany an intention of the kind in ques- 
tion, and a tear was running down each rubicund cheek — 
a tear that seemed to be amply supplied at its source, for 
it showed no signs of a diminution in the force of its 
stream, and, so far as appearances went, would keep on 
in its meandering career till it was absorbed by the stiff 
" choker" that encircled his neck. 

But Barbara was not suffered to remain long in doubt ; 
for after going to the door between the two rooms to 
see that it was entirely shut, and then turning the key in 
the lock of the street door, Mr. Oldmixon again sat 
down, again crossed one leg over the other, and again, re- 
suming his pedal castigations, began to unburden his mind. 

'' Miss HenscheV ' he said, as— doubtless feeling the 
water-courses on his cheeks — ^he again took out his hand- 
kerchief and pressed it lightly to his eyes and face, '^ I 
think 1 am in a position to exclaim with the poet— Addi- 
son, 1 believe the author of that admirable series of essays 
entitled the '^ Spectator," as well as of several plays, from 
one of which, JiosaTnond, the lines I am about to quote 
are taken — ^I think," he repeated, '^ that I am in a posi- 
tion to exclaim in regard to love, 

' Endless torments dweU about thee, 
Yet who would live and love without thee ! ' 

For I have met with a misfortune so sudden and over- 
whelming, a catastrophe so dire, so agonizing, and alto- 
gether so cataclysmic — if you will permit the expression 



A DISCONSOLATE LOVEE. 27 

— that it appears to me as though the end of all things is 
approaching, and as though — if 1 may say so without 
perpetrating an anticlimax — my heart-strings were torn 
loose from their attachments." 

'' I am very sorry, Mr. Oldmixon, if anything has oc- 
curred to distress you," said Barbara, with the tenderness 
of voice and look that at once showed that she was sincere. 

"Tou are very kind; so kind, in fact, that I am 
tempted to confide in you. Indeed, Miss Henschel, you 
will recollect that on the occasion of our first meeting — 
when 1 brought my poor little bird to be restored, as far 
as your artistic mind and hands could accomplish the 
object, to the semblance of what it once had been — I 
ventured to give you a few details of my life, which 
I was not without the hope would arouse in your sym- 
pathizing heart a little spark — scarcely a flame, Miss Hen- 
schel — a little scintillation — ^if 1 may employ the simile — 
of pity for one who is, I trust, not altogether unwor- 
thy of such an emotion from such a woman." 

As he uttered these words Mr. Oldmixon's voice, 
which had never been strong, became more and more 
squeaky, till at the end it was not far different in timbre 
from that of a very infirm and juvenile pig. He 
stopped, and taking a little vial from his waistcoat pocket, 
and with an inclination of his head toward Barbara, as 
though to ask her permission, removed the cork, and, 
holding the open mouth to each nostril alternately, sniffed 
the vapor that arose from the few drops of liquid. The 
effect was to make his face still redder than before ; but 
it appeared to give him renewed strength ; for with an 
air of relief he recorked the little vial and, holding it in 
his hand in readiness for another emergency, he again 
spoke, and with an increased force of voice. 



28 MR. OLDMIXOK. 



a 



'^ Pardon this little episode, Miss Henschel," lie said. 

The fact is, 1 have a weak heart physically as well as 
mentally, and 1 am obliged upon occasions of a trying 
character, such as is this, to resort to the nitrite of amyl 
as a roborant." 

'^ Can I do anything, Mr. Oldmixon ? Will you have 
a glass of wine ?" 

" No, Miss Henschel ; material aid is not what 1 re- 
quire. I am in search of a receptacle into which I can 
pour my sorrows ; not a mere inanimate vase, but a liv- 
ing, breathing, heart-possessing repository, such as I have 
every reason for believing you to be. May I presume 
that far on your benevolence and my impressions of your 
disposition ?" 

Barbara began to feel some degree of embarrassment. 
She was sorry for Mr. Oldmixon more from seeing in his 
face and manner the evidences of his grief than from 
any consideration of the subject that had brought him to 
his present state. That subject she had strong reason 
for believing was another disappointment in love, and 
she really had no desire to hear the details of the forty- 
fourth misfortune that had befallen her susceptible vis- 
itor. There was something, too, that was excessively 
ludicrous in the idea of this little, desiccated and eccen- 
tric old gentleman making her the confidante of his 
amatory adventures, or, indeed, in his having any such 
experiences at all. Still, what was she to do ? She could 
scarcely refuse to hear him. He was so gentle, refined, 
earnest, in his deportment and language, that she could 
not find it in her heart to repulse him. She was not 
the kind of a woman to submit to imposition or inten- 
tional annoyance. She had a high spirit and plenty of 
it when occasion required it to bo manifested ; but she 



A DISCONSOLATE LOVEB. 29 

had also one of the tenderest hearts that ever beat in a 
woman's breast, and hence the wounding of the feelings 
of any one, for the small object of securing relief from a 
tiresome experience, would have been almost an impos- 
sibility with her. As was to have been expected, her 
good-nature prevailed. 

"If you think 1 can help you, Mr. Oldmixon," she 
said at last, " 1 shall—" 

" If 1 think you can help me !" he exclaimed, inter- 
rupting her. " Miss Henschel," he added, with an in- 
creased gravity approaching solemnity, " I Tcnow you 
can help me." 

"I will do what I can." 

" Then listen ! This morning I was looking out of 
my window, thinking of her upon whom my heart was 
fixed, and trying to get a glimpse of her as she passed 
back and forth in the sitting-room on the second story, 
when I observed some unusual signs of an intra-mural 
activity new to the house. Men with flowers in baskets 
and in the form of bouquets, others with models of tem- 
ples and of doves, Cupids and other things in confection- 
ery, and women carrying big paper boxes of various forms, 
entered the house. Then several wagons arrived with 
the names of Delmonico, TiJ0Eany, Howard, and other 
purveyors to the gastronomic and aesthetic tendencies of 
man and woman, painted on them ; and ice-cream freezers 
and a multiplicity of packages were handed into the 
house. Finally, one after the other, a half a dozen 
carriages drove up to the door, and as many young ladies, 
dressed in white and carrying bouquets, got out and 
went in. Then, as did Hamlet, I said : 

' AU is not weU ; 
I donbt some fonl play.' 



30 MB. OLDMIXON. 

But in what shape it was coining I could not divine. The 
real cause for all the exhibitions 1 had witnessed never 
occurred to me. It only shows how unsuspicious 1 am." 

He ceased talking, and again applied the restorative 
vial to his nostrils, while Barbara, who was quick enough 
to perceive to what finality his story was tending, listened 
with increased interest, when, after a moment or two, he 
resumed his discourse. 

^* 1 stood and watched, my soul filled with the most 
gloomy but ill-defined forebodings. What could it all 
mean ? 1 paced the floor I I struck my forehead I I 
rubbed my head with a piece of cocoanut cloth, in the 
hope of rousing my dormant intellectual faculties to the 
comprehension of what was going on ; but all to no use. 
My brain appeared to have sunk into a deep lethargy, 
with all its faculties, save those of perception, benumbed. 
I could see and hear, but I could not understand. But 
the necessary goad to my slumbering wits was soon to be 
applied without mercy ; for after 1 had gnawed my heart 
till the agony became insupportable, the door opened, 
and she^ clothed in white, wearing a white veil and with 
orange blossoms in her hair, descended the steps and 
entered a carriage that had a moment before driven up 
to the sidewalk. The sun came out brighter, and 

' In the warm shadow of her loYeliness, 
He kissed her with his beams.' 

Fool that I was ! Had 1 known what all those prepara- 
tions meant I might even then have stopped it, for I 
should have rushed across the street, have entered the 
house, have thrown myself at her feet, and have declared 
my passion. Who," he added, looking complacently 
around the room, as though he had been addressing a 



A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 31 

dozen or more auditors, but finally fixing his eyes on Bar- 
bara, '' can donbt what would have been the result ? The 
wedding would have gone on, the reception would have 
taken place, the ice-cream, and the cake, and the chicken- 
salad, and the terrapin, and the boned turkey would have 
been eaten ; the champagne would have been drunk ; the 
band would have played its gayest music; the epi- 
thalamium would have been recited ; but the bridegroom 
would have been me — Victor Constantino Oldmixon — 
and not the despicable wretch who, like a thief in the 
night, had stolen into another man's fold and robbed him 
of his best beloved." 

Mr. Oldmixon fairly broke down with the emotion 
consequent on the recollections evoked by these words. 
He covered his face with his handkerchief, upon which 
he had poured the contents of his remedial vial ; and thus 
while he sobbed out the expression of his feelings he 
snified in the salutiferous exhalations that were to en- 
ergize his heart 

Barbara did not know what to do. It was impossible 
for her, a stranger and a woman of twenty, to offer sym- 
pathy in a love affair to a man of seventy-five, whom 
she had seen but once before, and whose very existence 
was till a few days ago unknown to her. Besides, the 
commiseration that she had felt for Mr. Oldmixon when 
he began his recital, and when there was more or less 
uncertainty in her mind relative to the actual details of 
the disaster that had overtaken him, had rapidly disap- 
peared under the influence of the comicalities of the 
situation, as they had been revealed to her by his ex- 
travagant though certainly graphic description. Indeed, 
it was with the utmost difficulty that she restrained her- 
self from bursting out into a fit of just such laughter 



32 MR. OLDMIXON. 

as she had indulged in that very morning over recol- 
lections that had not one tenth part of the ridiculousness 
of the mental pictures now before her. As it was, a 
smile, that was several times on the verge of becoming 
audible, sparkled on her face. Fortunately, Mr. Old- 
mixon could not see through his handkerchief ; and after 
he had vented his grief sufficiently, and inhaled an ade- 
quate quantity of the nitrite of amyl to invigorate his 
heart and nervous system, he proceeded with his story. 

" I was determined to find out who the destroyer of 
my happiness was," he resumed, with more fimmess in 
his voice than he had yet exhibited. " I am a coward, I 
admit, so far as women are concerned. Any member 
of the female sex, if she is good-looking, can twist me 
around her little finger ; but with men I am a difierent 
sort of a person altogether. When I was a student at 
Heidelberg 1 fought three duels. The scars I received 
in those contests I shall carry with me to my grave. Do 
you see this ?" as he laid his finger on a fine line that 
crossed one cheek ; " and this ?" as he indicated another 
on his chin; *^ and this?" pointing out one that must 
have been the remains of a cut that one would think 
could not have done less than sever his nose from his 
face. ** There are others that have faded out with my 
advancing years. They are all, however, as nothing to 
those that I bear on my heart. 

' The heart's bleed longest and but heal to wear 
That which disfigures it.' 

So I rushed out of the house to a livery stable in the 
next block, and jumping into a coupe that was standing 
ready 1 ordered the driver to follow the procession of 
carriages that was then passing in sight down the Avenue. 



A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 33 

1 soon overtook tliexn. They turned into Twenty-fifth 
Street, and stopped at Trinity Chapel. She entered the 
church leaning on the arm of an old man — her father, 1 
suppose. 1 followed. There was an immense crowd await- 
ing the entrance of the bride. It seemed as though all 
Uew York knew of the wicked act that was about to be 
committed, while I had been kept in ignorance. 1 pushed 
forward as near as I could to the chancel, and whom do 
you think I saw standing there with his best man await- 
ing the entrance of my beloved ? Whom do you think 
I saw ? Miss Heuschel, you are an innocent-minded girl ; 
the contaminations of the world have not touched you. 
You are one of those pure spirits that think no cviL As 
I looked at him I felt, in all their force, the words of the 
poet, that 

' Sharper than a serpent's tooth it is 
To have a thankless child.' 

To be sure, he is not my child ; he is only my nephew. 
Jack Oldmixon, my poor brother's son, is the man who 
has robbed me ; but the words spoken by old King Lear 
lose none of their force, even though the miscreant be a 
nephew instead of a son." 

" But did you know nothing of all this ?" said Barbara. 
*' Is it possible that your nephew would get married 
without letting you know anything about it V ' 

'* I knew he was going to be married. I've talked 
the matter over with him half a dozen times ; but 1 had 
no idea that when he told me he was going to marry 
Miss Camilla "White that she was the object of my heart's 
desire. White is a common enough name. I know 
fifty Whites." 

" But surely," rejoined Barbara, who had now suffi- 
ciently obtained control of herself to converse on the 
2* 



34 ME. OLDMLXON. 

subject, ^' he did not know that you were in love with 
the lady I" 

*' Of course he did not I How could he ? 1 never 
mentioned her name to him." 

'' Then 1 don't think you ought to be angry with 
him." 

'' That seems to be very logical, Miss Henschel ; but 
what has logic to do with love ? The more love the 
less logic. Now, as in my case there was more love 
than had ever existed before in any similar case, there is 
an absolute absence of logic. Jack owes everything he 
has in this world to me. His future is in my hands, 
and I am going to punish him. 

' I hate ingratitnde more in a man 
Than lying, vainness, babbling, dmnkenness. 
Or any taint of vice.* 

" 1 went home at once, determined to let him feel the 
lion's claws, and I altered my will, so that, instead of get- 
ting a half a million when 1 die, he will get exactly 
nothing. Nothing — that is, but one dollar." 

" Oh, you are too hard on him !" exclaimed Barbara, 
whose sympathies were now entirely diverted to the 
young man and his youthful bride. '^ Doubtless he had 
taken every means to inform you of what he was about 
to do ; and if you did not understand, I do not think you 
should blame him." 

" But, my dear Miss Henschel — if you will kindly per- 
mit a broken-hearted man to address you in that paternal 
phrase — have I not already told you that this love is ab- 
solutely devoid of logic? It has nothing to do with 
reason. It is a matter of the heart alone. To be sure, 
when 1 got home and looked over my invitations — as a 
riile I never open them — I found the cards from the 



A DISCONSOLATE LOVER. 35 

Whites, a note from my nephew, and a pretty little one 
from Camilla, hoping that 1 would break through my 
habit and come, not only to the church, but to the re- 
ception afterward. But all that doesn't make the matter 
any better. 1 shall make him feel it. 

' Though those that are betrayed 
Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor 
Stands in worse case of woe.* 

Never shall a cent of mine go into his pocket." 

"O Mr. Oldmixon, you will not be so unjust — so 
cruelly unjust !" 

" Yes, I will. That is exactly what 1 will be — cruelly 
unjust. You have used the exact words. From this 
time on, so far as Jack Oldmixon is concerned, I shall 
be a changed man. Neither kindness nor justice shall 
ever find a place in my bosom' ' — striking his breast over 
his heart as he spoke — ^* for that traitor, that robber, 
that wolf in sheep's clothing ! The well-spring of be- 
nevolence that bubbled in my heart for him is frozen 
deep down to its very source. He will starve, I am 
happy to say, if I cut oflE his allowance — and cut it off 
1 shall." 

" I am very sorry," said Barbara, rising as though to 
leave the room. ^' 1 suppose he loves her with all his 
heart. Poor fellow ! 1 wish I could help him." 

" And is all your sorrow for him ?" cried Mr. Old- 
mixon, also rising. " Have you none for me ? He has 
been victorious. I am defeated, heart-broken, and yet 
you lavish your pity on him ! I must confess, Miss Hen- 
schel, that I expected something different from you. " 

*' I feel sorry for you," replied Barbara, who now 
brought her good sense to bear on the subject, and who 
thought that Mr. Oldmixon' s absurd conduct and ideas 



36 MR. OLDMIXON. 

Bhould not be allowed to pass as though she approved 
them, " for 1 think you acted very foolishly. You 
never told the lady that you cared for her ; your nephew 
informed you of his attachment, and then, when you 
accidentally find that you are both in love with the same 
woman, you unjustly blame him, and you announce your 
intention to treat him cruelly. It appears to me, too," 
she added, " that — that — " 

^' Out with it !" interrupted Mr. Oldmixon. " You 
think he is better suited for her on account of age, and 
perhaps you would also have said intellect, than I am. 
I admit it all. I am seventy-five — he is twenty-eight. 
He is of sound mind. I am of unsound mind, or at 
least queer, cranky, off my balance, or, to use a more 
polite and scientific term, eccentric. Yes, he is better 
suited to her than I am. His conduct throughout the 
whole affair has been excellent, and mine has been ab- 
surd ; but, as 1 told you, love is not a matter of logic, and 
I'm going to disinherit him as sure as my name is Victor 
Constantine Oldmixon ; and I have documentary evi- 
dence of the strongest character that that is my real ap- 
pellation. I shall leave the whole of my fortune to mj 
other nephew, Hogarth Oldmixon, and to one other per- 
son, in equal parfcs, share and share alike ; and Mr. Jack 
shall not have enough to buy him a coffin. Hogaith is 
a wild fellow, and I had not intended to give him a cent. 
I've altered my will so far as Jack is concerned, for I did 
not know but that I might die to-night — all the Oldmix- 
ons die in their sleep, unless they are shot or hanged 
or commit suicide — and I wanted to make sure of him. 
If I die to-m*ght my whole estate will go to a new so- 
ciety that I have established — ' The Society for the 
Rehef of the Widows and Orphans of Deceased Plumb- 



A DISCOKSOLATE LOVER. 37 

ere ; ' but if I live till to-morrow I'll make a new will 
such as I just mentioned." 

" Is your other nephew an honorable man ?" inquired 
Barbara, while Mr. Oldmixon, in his agitation, walked up 
and down the floor, slashing his legs with his cane. 

*^ Honorable 1 Yes, I suppose so ! Honorable enough 
for this world, at any rate. To be sure, he drinks and 
gambles and runs into debts that he can't pay, and does 
other little things of the kind. But why do you ask ? 
What has honorable got to do with it ?" 

*^ Only," answered Barbara, ''if he is an honorable 
man he will not take his brother's fortune, when he knows 
how unjustly you have treated him. " 

"Hal ha! ha!" laughed Mr. Oldmixon. "You 
don't know Hogarth, that's clear. He'd take it if every 
piece of gold was lying on the eyehds of my corpse. So 
that he gets money he doesn't care where it comes from. 
I had a thousand doUare stolen out of my room a year or 
so ago, and I am very sure that Hogarth Oldmixon was 
the thief." 

" And that is the man," exclaimed Barbara, indig- 
nantly, " you are going to reward with the fortune that 
ought to go to his honest and honorable brother ! Mr. 
Oldmixon, I am ashamed of you ! Yes, ashamed of you ! 
Good-morning !" and she moved toward the door, evi- 
dently with the intention of ending the interview by leav- 
ing her visitor alone. 

" Stop, Miss Henschel ! For Heaven's sake, stop ! I 
have not told you all yet ; and the fact is," he continued, 
as Barbara stood by the door with her hand on the knob, 
" I must ask year forgiveness for having slightly misled 
you. The nephew who stole my treasure from under 
my very nose is the same one that took my money. It's 



38 MB. ojjDnnxonr. 

the drunken, worthless, gambling fellow, Hogarth, 
whereas Jack is as innocent as a babe. It's Hogarth I'm 
going to disinherit. Jack I disinherited long ago. Kow 
Fm going to reverse the proceeding. But, of course, it 
would be just as cruel and unjust to poor Hogarth to de- 
prive him of his fortune for marrying the woman I loved 
as it would have been to cut Jack oflf, eh ?" 

As Mr. Oldmixon uttered these last words he looked 
at Barbara with a degree of sharpness in his expression 
that was something of a revelation to her. What did he 
mean ? Why had he come to her with this false story, 
and then with a correction that he said embodied the 
truth ? Was the whole account only the delusion of a 
lunatic ? What was her opinion to him ? Why should 
she be called upon to judge between the two nephews ? 
All these questions, and others, too, suggested themselves 
to her, and to none of them could she give answers that 
were satisfactory to herself. She was in the midst of 
her cogitations when Mr. Oldmixon's voice again struck 
upon her ears. 



CHAPTEE III. 

A FAMILY PICTURE. 

"I SUPPOSE, Miss Henschel," said Mr. Oldmixon, 
coming up to Barbara and standing by her side, his head 
scarcely reaching above her shoulder — '* 1 suppose that a 
bad man can be treated unjustly as well as a good one, 
eh ? An act that would be cruel and unfair to a model 
of all the heavenly virtues would be just as cruel and 
unfair if committed against a son of Belial, eh ? You 
would advise me, then, not to disinherit this blackguard 
that broke his poor mother's heart, stole my money, is 
drunk nearly aU the time, is the sfisociate of the vilest 
men in the city, and has now married a lovely girl upon 
whom I had placed my affections ? "WTiat is sauce for 
the goose is sauce for the gander, eh ?" 

'' You have abeady shown me, Mr. Oldmixon," an- 
swered Barbara, '^ that my opinion has no influence with 
you. It is scarcely worth while, therefore, for me to say 
anything more. Please allow me to go." 

''No, not yet, please ! 1 rely on you, Miss Henschel, 
to help me with your clear judgment, based, as it will 
be, on such power of comprehension as few, in my opin- 
ion, possess. You will kindly call to mind that when 1 
first had the pleasure of meeting you 1 took advantage 
of the occasion to indulge in a little philosophical dis- 
play. If I have a weakness for anything, it is philoso- 
phy. Well, your answers to my interrogatories were so 



40 MR. OLDMtXON. 

exactly in accordance with my own views that I said to 
myself, ' Here is a woman who has learned how to 
make use of her brain. I must not lose sight of her, for 
perhaps some time or other I may want to use her.' 
The time has come sooner than I expected. 1 want to 
use you just as I would use a microscope or a telescope, 
or a fine chemical balance — to enable me to get at a result 
as nearly perfect as may be. Now, kindly allow me to 
state the case without all the non-essential details that 
may, by their obtrusiveuess, interfere With the power to 
comprehend and, consequently, with the ability to 
judge, and 1 pledge myself, in advance, to abide by 
your decision and to carry it out in all its details with the 
utmost fidelity." 

Barbara was troubled. What right had this man to 
come to her with his disputes, and his love afiEairs, and 
his nephews, and put upon her the responsibility of dis- 
posing of his estate ? For a moment she felt indignant ; 
but then she soon recognized the fact that she had en- 
couraged him already to the extent of warranting him in 
asking her to go farther. In his misstatement of the 
facts she saw, or thought she saw, that his prejudices 
were all in favor of the wicked nephew, to whom he had 
already given by his will the whole of his estate. It was 
easy for her to perceive that this was the one whom, in 
spite of his badness, Mr. Oldmixon loved. Probably 
there were some good qualities about the young man 
that the other nephew did not possess ; but she had 
already seen sufficient of Mr. Oldmixon to cause her to 
form the opinion that his mind was of so badly balanced 
a character that he would be extremely likely in any 
given case to do exactly the opposite of what ninety-nine 
men in a hundred of normal mental organization would 



A FAMILY PICTURE. 41 

do under like circumstances. In a moment of irritation 
he had gone home from the church and had altered his 
will ; but why had he come to her with a misstatement of 
the facts of the case ? She felt angry that he should 
have thus played upon her, and she at once determined 
that she would express no further opinion in regard to 
the matter till he had given her a satisfactory explanation 
of his conduct. At the same time she was forced to 
admit that there was a strong possibility that the whole 
story was manufactured either from a very small 
groundwork of fact, or without there being the slightest 
element of truth in its composition. She did not take 
long to make up her mind. There was always a degree 
of directness in Barbara's conduct that was one of the 
strongest marks of the integrity of her mind and nervous 
system. She thought promptly, as well as with perspic- 
uity and force. 

" Mr. Oldmixon,'' she said, " I do not think you have 
treated me with entire frankness. You appear to me to 
have endeavored — and with success, too — to lead me into 
a trap. You have obtained from me an opinion which, 
as you now admit, was based upon erroneous premises — 
intentionally erroneous — ^that is, false premises given me 
by you. I don't like such treatment, and unless you can 
explain your conduct to my satisfaction I shall certainly 
leave you to settle your troubles in your own way." 

" And you would do exactly right if you did. But 
mine, I respectfully submit, is not a case for justice so 
much as it is one in which mercy should be exercised, 
I admit that I was wrong, and 1 throw myself entirely 
on your charity and forbearance. Besides, think of the 
opportunity now given you of doing a service in the 
cause of fair-dealing." 



42 MB. OLDMIXON. 

" But why did you place the matter before me in a 
false light ?" said Barbara, adhering to the point she had 
made. " 1 do not see the necessity for such a pro- 
cedure. I like to be treated frankly." 

''1 will tell you, Miss Henschel," replied Mr. Old- 
mixon, lowering his voice almost to a whisper. " 1 was 
a little in doubt relative to the correctness of the motive 
that had actuated me in changing my will. I knew that 
that worthless scamp would be left out in the cold ; but 
when I came to think the matter over I was afraid that 
the manner in which he had treated me was not the cause 
that should have moved me to alter my intentions. I 
thought, therefore, that I would make his case out to 
you as that of a thoroughly good young man, knowing 
that if your opinion was for me from the aspect of the 
case I should give you, that it would be still more in my 
favor when the matter was placed con'ectly before you* 
But you decided against me, very much to my surprise, 
and notwithstanding my repeated assertions that there 
was no logic in the aflEair. Consequently, unless you will 
hear me further — as I have now determined to be guided 
by you — I shall go home and write a new will, restoring 
that wretch to his former position as my heir, and leav- 
ing his good, noble-hearted, and honorable brother out 
in the cold without a dollar to bless himself with. Now, 
what do you think of that V ' 

" It seems to me," answered Barbara, '* that you are 
a very unjust man. Why did you make such a will, in 
the first place ?" 

'' Because 1 have no sense of justice in me. You are 
entirely right when you say that 1 am an unjust man ; I 
am governed entirely by feeling and impulse. That is 
why 1 came to you. I want justice ; having none in 



A FAMILY PICTURE. 43 

my own composition, I ask you for it. Look at the mat- 
ter, therefore, with your sense of truth, and decide for 
me, according to the principles of justice — retributive or 
tempered with mercy, as you may think best adapted to 
the case in question." 

*^ State the case to me, Mr. Oldmixon," said Barbara, 
with an awakened interest. " You shall have my opin- 
ion, and you can then do as you see fit." 

^^ Thanks ; 1 shall do exactly as you say. Now, 
listen ! But won't you sit down again ? Allow me !' ' 
And Mr. Oldmixon brought the chair that she had just 
vacated to her ; and then, placing his own beside it, sat 
down — ^af ter her, however — and resumed his recital. 

" As I said just noW" — beginning again to strike his 
shoes with his cane as he spoke — '^ I did a very unjust 
thing when I made a will leaving everything 1 have in 
the world to my nephew Hogarth, and nothing whatever 
to my other nephew, Jack ; but I did not act without 
reasons, although, as you will doubtless perceive, they 
were of a very inadequate character. They are both the 
sons of my only brother, Morley Oldmixon, who was 
killed in a duel, many years ago, that he had himself 
provoked. Jack is the elder of the two by three years, 
but he takes after his mother ; there does not, in fact, 
seem to be a bit of the Oldmixon stock about him, except 
his name. Hogarth is, however, a true scion of our 
house in appearance and in character. "We were all a 
rather bad lot, I think. The founder of the house is 
said to have been a pirate ; one of my ancestors was be- 
headed for treason ; another was burnt at the stake 
for heresy ; another broken on the wheel for highway 
robbery in France ; others have suffered the penal- 
ties of the law in various ways ; and Hogarth, if he 



44 ME. OLDMIXOK, 

has a fair cliance, will certainly be hanged. I myself 
am a somewhat irregular sort of an individual, as you 
probably have already perceived ; but in me the strain 
has been modified by the fact that my mother was the 
descendant of a race that has always been noted for 
their virtues, and was herself the daughter of a bishop. 
I am not, therefore, quite so bad as some of my an- 
cestors. 

^' We have always, however, notwithstanding the black 
sheep in the family, been noted for our pride of ancestry 
and for a tendency to stick to our villainous members 
through thick and thin ; to protect them by all the means 
at our disposal, and to lavish upon them all the good 
gifts that it might be in our power to bestow. 

" In pursuance of this inherent trait of character, so 
soon as the two boys had begun to develop, and I saw 
that Jack was a model of propriety and excellence in 
everything, and that Hogarth was a combination of Jack 
Sheppard, Captain Kidd, and the King of Ashantee, I 
made my will in his favor.*' 

^'It was a wicked thing for you to do !" exclaimed 
Barbara, indignantly. " Very wicked and very unjust. " 

" Ah ! that is exactly what 1 wanted you to say. Now, 
1 have got an expression of opinion from you. Miss Hen* 
schel, that will warrant me in entirely reversing the pro- 
visions of my will. To-morrow morning I shall go to 
my lawyer and 1 shall instruct him to draw up another 
will, in which all my real and personal estate, of every 
nature and description, shall be given to Jack Oldmixon, 
under a certain condition, while Hogarth shall receive 
the munificent sum of one dollar for the purpose of pur- 
chasing a rope with which to hang himself. 1 have 
heretofore given him an allowance of three thousand 



A FAMILY PICTURE. 45 

dollars a year, wliile I have left Jack to sliif t for himself. 
1 shall change all that, too." 

" But," asked Barbara, " is your younger nephew so 
very bad as you represent ? Are you quite sure that you 
have not, under the influence of the irritation you feel 
at his marriage, unconsciously exaggerated his faults ?" 

^* Oh, there's no mistake on that point. Why, it was 
exactly on accoimt of his wickedness that I made him my 
heir. 1 have already mentioned to you some of his acts. 
I could make your hair stand on end if I were to specify 
to you the tenth part of his crimes, not merely offences 
against good order and decency, but actual violations of 
law. No, he is hopelessly and irredaimably bad." 

" And is your elder nephew altogether different V ' she 
inquired, anxiously, for she felt now the weight of re- 
sponsibility that rested upon her, though still not by any 
means entirely convinced that Mr. Oldmixon was not a 
veritable lunatic. 

" As different as night is from day. Jack is tall, 
Hogarth is short ; Jack is dark, Hogarth is fair ; Jack 
is handsome, Hogarth is as ugly as the devil ; Jack is 
honest, honorable, frank, and manly ; Hogarth is a thief, 
a liar, a hypocrite, and a coward ; Jack works for his 
living, and will, without aid from any one, rise to great- 
ness ; Hogarth never did a useful piece of labor in his 
life, and if he does not die from disease induced by his 
excesses, will certainly be hanged. Jack is beloved by 
every one that knows him ; Hogarth is despised and 
hated by all respectable people as soon as he reveals his 
true character." 

** You did an awful wrong when you deserted the good 
nephew for the bad one." 

*^ That's right, give it to me ; regard yourself. Miss 



46 HB. OLDMIXOK. 

Henschel, as a physician, and me as a great big, disgust- 
ing ulcer. Don't treat me with molasses when I require 
aqua-fortis. Say to me, in the language of the poet, 

< Thoa shalt be whipped with wire and stand in brine. 
Smarting in lingering pickle.' 

I deserve all you can say. But tell me in a few words, 
please ; do you think 1 ought to change my will ?" 

" If what you have told me is true, I think the sooner 
you alter it the better. Such injustice ought not to 
stand a moment longer than can be helped.'' 

'' And you give that opinion, Miss Henschel, alto- 
gether uninfluenced by the fact that the wretch Hogarth 
stole my beloved away from me ?" 

'' I give it upon the information of his character that 
you have just communicated to me. If what you say is 
true, he must be a perfect monster. But how could he 
succeed in ingratiating himself into the favor of the lady 
whom you tell me he has just married ?" 

'' Oh, he's the most specious rascal that ever lived ! 
You may depend upon it that he has brought to bear 
upon her all his wiles and arts, and that she is thoroughly 
deceived in regard to his character. Doubtless she 
thinks him a paragon of all that is good and virtuous. 
My word for it, she will not live with him a month. 
My poor Camilla ! Little does she know the sorrow that 
is in store for her. But, my dear Miss Henschel, you 
have taken a load from my mind. I will leave you now, 
with many heartfelt thanks for your goodness, and to- 
morrow morning the wrong shall be undone ; I begin to 
feel as though the Oldmixon tendencies were being 
dragged out of me, and I can only attribute the change 
to your influence. The moment my eyes rested upon 



A FAMILY PICTUBE. 47 

you for the first time, I said to myself, ' There is the 
woman that can mould me into any form she pleases.' 
Don't reply, I beg of you" — seeing that Barbara was 
about to speak. *' Good-morning ! Ah, my bird ! I 
must not forget that ' emblem of stainless purity ' that 
you have made worthy to stand amid the productions of 
artistic Paris or Rome. Good-by ! I will, with your 
permission, call again." With which words Mr. Old- 
mixon, with his bird in one hand, unlocked the street 
door with the other, and passing out of the house entered 
his carriage, and, after speaking a word or two to the 
coachman, was driven rapidly np-town. 

To say that Barbara was fully impressed with a sense 
of the importance of the interview she had just had, 
would very inadequately express the state of her feel- 
ings. From whatever point she considered it, she saw 
that it involved possibilities that she scarcely felt com- 
petent to estimate at that moment at their full value. 
That Mr. Oldmixon was of an erratic turn of mind was 
very evident ; but he appeared to have a full knowledge 
of what he wanted and intended to do. That he would 
come to her with such a story as that that he had told, 
knowing it to be false, was entirely out of the question. 
There was no room for doubting his sincerity ; there had 
been too much emotional disturbance for tliat. She had 
seen his tears, his agitation, the change in his voice, and 
the difficulty with which at times he had appeared to get 
his breath. She saw, too, how, under the influence of 
the vapor that he had inhaled — the strong odor of which 
still remained in the room— he had become more com- 
posed and able to go on with his recital 

Besides, the account he had given was too systematic 
and consistent to be false. She saw very clearly how 



48 MB. OLDMIXON. 

Mr. Oldmixon liad impressed his own individuality on 
liis narrative ; she saw that there were many inferences 
that he had drawn for which there was probably no war- 
rant ; and these were the very strongest indications that 
his mind was eccentric, to a degree almost reaching a 
state of absolute insanity. Thus his egregious yanity 
was shown in the opinion he had expressed that he might 
at any time on the morning of Miss White's wedding 
with his nephew have himself become the bridegroom 
had he been aware of what was going on and had de- 
clared his love for her. The same emotion had cropped 
out in all that he had said, even when he had requested 
her to strike hard and spare not, and when he had 
bragged of the infamy that had been associated with 
many members of his family. He seemed to revel in 
the depravity of his nephew Hogarth, and to be proud 
of the fact that there was little probability of finding his 
equal in wickedness. 

But apart from this mental peculiarity and the extreme 
susceptibility to the attractions of women that he exhib- 
ited, there did not appear to be any defects in Mr. Old- 
mixon's intellectual processes. His methods of reason- 
ing seemed to her to be exact, if they were somewhat 
peculiar. They might be, and doubtless were, marked 
by his individual idiosyncrasies ; but there was nothing 
in them to indicate that he did not possess a mind that 
was within the normal limits of soundness, however 
irregular it might be. His facts were stated coherently 
and with a degree of precision and force that carried 
conviction with their enunciation, and the impression of 
their truth was not essentially weakened by the admis- 
sion he l^jid voluntarily made, that he had deceived her 
in regard to the nephew who had interfered with the 



A FAMILY PICTUBE. 49 

course of his love for Miss Camilla White ; for the de- 
ception had been perpetrated with an object, and was 
only another evidence of his shrewdness. 

But what did it all mean ? she asked herself. Why 
had Mr. -Oldmixon come to her to be the repository of 
his secrets and to aid him in his schemes for and against 
his nephews ? He had said that he had been attracted 
by the knowledge of philosophy that she had displayed 
during his first interview with her a few days previously ; 
but she was not conscious of having shown that she pos- 
sessed any such knowledge. Barbara had received a 
good education, though I am afraid that the majority of 
the young-lady graduates of our colleges would have 
turned up their sophomorically intellectual noses at the 
statement of the extent of her scholastic acquirements. 
The most important educational feature of Barbara's 
mental development was, that she had learned how to 
think ; whereas, the young-lady graduates aforesaid are, 
in general, supremely ignorant of that cerebral process. 
When she was about twelve years of age a sister of her 
father's, Fraulein Ernestine Herischel, who had been a 
school-teacher in Copenhagen, came over to America, at 
her brother's request, to take the care of his household, 
his wife having died a few months previously. This 
lady was thoroughly acquainted with the science of 
pedagogics, having received a very complete course of 
instruction in a school especially established in Copen- 
hagen by the queen for the education of young women 
desirous of becoming teachers. Her aunt took charge, 
not only of her brother's household establishment, which, 
not being extensive, required very little of her time, but 
of Barbara's education as well, and she had kept it till 

Hans Callisen followed her from Denmark, married her, 
3 



50 MB. OLDMIXON. 

and took her to Minnesota when she had nearly reached 
her fortieth year. But by that time Barbara had had 
the benefit of her aunt's knowledge and training for six 
years, till she was eighteen years of age, in fact ; and 
though she could neither be said to have received what 
is called an ornamental education, nor one like that given 
to young women at some of our institutions devoted to 
the enlightenment of the female mind, she had laid in a 
stock of solid information in the languages and sciences 
that not one graduate of Macassar College in a hundred 
can pretend to possessing. Her profession as a taxider- 
mist had given her a love for zoology, and she had given 
special attention not only to this branch of knowledge, 
but to all other departments of natural history. She 
was a good botanist and mineralogist, in addition to hav- 
ing a practical acquaintance with the science of living 
beings that would have put many a college professor to 
the blush. 

But as to philosophy, she was about as much acquainted 
with it as was the gentleman with prose, which he 
found, to his surprise, he had been speaking all his life. 
She had never read a line of Plato, or Spinoza, or Kant, 
or Hegel, or even of Emerson. In fact, she had never, 
so far as she could have told, looked into a work on 
metaphysics or psychology, and she knew absolutely 
nothing of the many theories of the mind that ingenious 
Frenchmen like Descartes, or Englishmen like Locke, or 
Scotchmen like Hamilton, had promulgated. But for all 
this, it would not be correct to say that she was ignorant 
of mental philosophy. Indeed, she knew a good deal 
about it ; but she had acquired her knowledge not by 
studying the writings of others, but by practising that 
habit of introspection which, sooner or later, all thinking 



A FAMILY PICTURE, 51 

people acquire, and by which more is often to be learned 
relative to the operations of the human mind than is to 
be acquired from books. 

Bringing to bear, as well as she could in a brief time 
and in her agitated condition, the experience she had 
gained by her self-examinations, she came to the conclu- 
sion that Mr. Oldmixon had really been moved by a de- 
sire to obtain her opinion, having probably some doubt 
relative to his ability to judge correctly in a matter in 
which his feelings were involved. She called to mind 
the earnestness of his speech and the sharpness of his 
facial expression when he questioned her, just after he 
had informed her of the erroneous impression he had 
given her relative to the two nephews. She felt sure, 
too, that he would act in accordance with the views she 
had expressed, and she began to experience a sense of 
the responsibility she had incurred in advising him to 
change his will. What if the nephew Hogarth were 
neither so bad as his uncle had depicted him, nor Jack 
so good ? Then the guilt of an unjust act — if guilt there 
were — would not rest on her shoulders. She had acted in 
accordance with assertions that she had a right to believe 
were true. If they were true, then she was satisfied 
with the part she had taken. 

She looked at the clock that hung on the wall over the 
desk in the office. It was after twelve. Mr. Oldmixon 
had kept her over half an hour from her work, and she 
had yet a good deal to do before she could honestly say 
that she had done a day's labor. She therefore went 
into the back room, where her father, assisted by Peter, 
was doing the first part of the work required in the 
mounting of a fine specimen of that rare animal, the 
silver fox. 



62 HB. OLDKIXOK. 

*^ Well, Barbara !" exclaimed the old man, as she 
made her appearance, *'if you had thought Mr. Old- 
mixon was going to keep you nearly three quarters of an 
hour over his bird, you would have charged him ten dol- 
lars for it, wouldn't you ?" 

^*He did not keep me about the bird, father," she 
answered. '^ It was about something of much more im- 
portance." 

'' Another order, I suppose," said Mr. Henschel, who 
under all circumstances had that keen eye to business 
and profit that the Scandinavian generally displays. 

" No ; he said nothing on the subject. I don't think 
he has any more work at present. But he had a good 
deal to say about some family matters, and he asked my 
advice. To-night I'll ask you to tell me whether I did 
right or not. " 

'' Ah I my dear, you know more about such things 
than I do. But now I'll get you to give a little shaping 
to this fox, and Peter can go back to the oflSce. It's a 
rare specimen of an animal that is every day becoming 
rarer. I suppose this skin is worth three hundred dollars. 
Did you ever see anything so beautiful ? Now, the owner 
of this is a man after my own heart. He'd rather have 
it mounted as a work of art than sell it to some furrier 
to cut up into muflEs and collars and such things for rich 
women to wear." 

" Who is the owner, father ?" 

" Oh, I don't know. I didn't ask his name. He said 
he'd send or call for it next week ; but he didn't come in 
a carriage, and he didn't look as if he had any more 
money than he wanted." 

^' It's a beautiful specimen ; the finest I ever saw." 

'^ Yes, the very finest. I offered him three hundred 



A FAMILY PICTURE. 63 

dollars for it, bnt he said no ; he had killed it himscK 
last winter while with the Hudson's Bay Company, and 
he wouldn't sell it. Now, my dear, I leave it to you to 
put the proper expression into its. face and attitude. Re- 
member, that in its natural state it's the slyest of all of 
its kind. However, I can't tell you anything about the 
habits of animals that you don't know. It's your knowl- 
edge! on this subject that makes you the true artist that 
you are and the best taxidermist in this country, if not in 
the world." 



CHAPTEK lY. 

FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 

The house occnpied by Mr. Henschel as his residence 
and place of business, although not situated in a part of 
New York that would have been called fashionable, was, 
nevertheless, in one that was eminently respectable. 
Many years ago it had been occupied by well-to-do 
tradesmen,who lived in comfort, if not in luxury ; but in 
the course of time, with the constantly increasing demands 
of trade, most of the residences had been altered so as 
the better to adapt them to the newer purposes for which 
they were required. It was in one of these that the 
Henschels lived. 

The lower floor was entirely, with the exception of the 
kitchen — situated at the extreme rear of the building — de- 
voted to the business of taxidermy. The front room, 
which opened directly upon the street, served as an office 
and show-room. It was lined with glass cases, and in 
them were contained some of the most choice specimens 
of his and his daughter's skill ; for they not only mounted 
animals to order, but did a good business by keeping a 
stock on hand to supply the wants of museums in various 
parts of the country, or of individuals looking for speci- 
mens of birds or animals to place in their halls, libraries, 
or dining-rooms. During one year he had received orders 
for nearly three hundred buflEalo, elk, antelope, mountain 



FATHER AND DAFGHTER. 55 

sheep, and other heads, from gentlemen who wished to 
use them to ornament the walls of their houses. 

In addition to the work of mounting animals, Mr. 
Henschel had a good deal to do in the way of furnishing 
collections in botany, mineralogy, and conchology to 
colleges, academies, and private persons. He was well 
known to scientific men in all parts of the civilized world, 
and was held in high esteem by them. They took great 
pleasure, many of them, in sending him duplicates of the 
specimens in natural history that they had collected in 
their explorations, or had received in exchange, and he, in 
his turn, had given them many valuable and interesting 
additions to their collections, that he had received from 
seafaring men, with whom he had always kept on good 
terms, and who were in the habit of bringing him the 
curiosities that they had picked up in various parts of the 
world. 

It is impossible for a taxidermist not to acquire some 
knowledge of natural history. It generally happens, 
however, that his acquirements in this direction do not ex- 
tend beyond those practical points that are gathered from 
the collectors and scientific persons with whom he comes 
in contact. It was very different, however, with Mr. 
Henschel, as we have seen it was with his daughter. From 
the time when he was a boy and an apprentice to old 
Rasmus Olafsen, the learned taxidermist of Copenhagen, 
he had studied from books, and had thus obtained a knowl- 
edge of the science that the mere mounting of the animals 
that came under his hands would never have given him. 
These, it is true, served him in good stead in his studies, 
for he was enabled to use them for purposes of iden- 
tification ; but they could never have taught him the 
classification and internal structure of organic beings. 



66 ME. OLDMLXOW. 

BcBidcs books, he had the advantage of much personal 
instruction from Professor Bording, who not only held a 
higli position in the University, but was, besides, a knight 
of the order of Daneborg. This learned man took a great 
interest in young Ilenschel, and not only allowed him to 
attend his lectures, but gave him, in addition, much private 
instruction. He introduced him to Thorwaldsen, then 
in the very zenith of his fame. From this greatest of 
modem sculptors the young man imbibed that love for 
' art that had always been a governing motive with him. 
lie had, in fact, gone so far as to take lessons in sculpture 
and to produce two or three works that his master thought 
gave evidence of his possession of decided talent ; but he 
soon found that the road to greatness, or even respectable 
mediocrity in the vocation of a sculptor, was not only long 
and painful, but that it would be many years before he 
could rely on it for a pecuniary support. The weariness, 
the anxieties, the disappointments, the rebuffs he could 
have stood ; but it was necessary for him to live by his 
labor. So, when a Danish gentleman whom he knew 
returned from a visit to New York and told him that 
there was a fine chance in that city for a skilful and ar- 
tistic taxidermist, young Henschel married the pretty 
peasant girl with whom he had long been in love, and, 
with less than a hundred dollars in his pocket, started for 
New York. For a time things went hard with him. 
Several children were born to him, but they had all died 
young, till, when he was well advanced in life, Barbara 
came into the world, different, apparently, in physical con- 
stitution from the others ; for she had always been a vig- 
orons and healthy child, and had grown up into woman- 
hood without ever having had a day's sickness. Her 
Iftdier had often declared with great delight that he had 



FATHER AND DAFGHTEE. 67 

never known a day that Barbara could not eat three 
hearty meals. 

It was very natural that Mr. Henschel should apply to 
his daughter the principles that had been instilled into 
him in Denmark. Barbara had, in fact, been reared in an 
atmosphere of natural science. By the time she could 
talk she had learned to recognize and to designate by 
their names the many kinds of animals that were con- 
tinually passing under her observation, and ere long she 
could classify them into groups from the characteristics 
that she noticed they possessed. ^* Pick out all the 
cats, Barbara," her father would say to her, and then the 
little girl would go round from case to case and point out 
the tiger, the panther, the ocelot, the cougar, the lynx. 
Over the lion she was at first a little puzzled. ' * He looks 
like a cat, and he doesn't," she said. '* He's got such a 
big head and so much hair on it ; but his wife " — pointing 
to a lioness that stood by the side of her lord — *' looks 
just like a cat. I think all the wives are more like cats 
than the husbands." Then Mr. Henschel had chucked 
his wife under the chin. " Do you hear that, my dear ?" 
he said, laughing heartily. " All the wives are more cat- 
like than the husbands. What a sharp little body she is !" 

By exercises like these little Barbara ere long became an 
accomplished practical zoologist. As she grew older she 
began to assist her father in his work, and from the very 
first she developed an artistic sense that the old man de- 
clared was so delicate, refined, and yet bold, that, if she 
could have advantages such as had been offered him when 
he was a boy in Copenhagen, would bring her to the front 
as one of the leading sculptors of the world. Of course 
Mr. Henschel was prejudiced in his daughter's favor, and 

hence his opinions of her genius were to be taken with 
3» 



58 ME. OLDMIXON. 

many grains of allowance ; but for all that, there was no 
doubt of her having a genuine aptitude for original work. 
She had modelled several subjects in clay, and had done 
them so well that they had attracted the marked attention 
of several artists of her father's acquaintance. One of 
them — an Apache Indian hunting a buflEalo, and just in 
the act of discharging an arrow into the heart of the ani- 
mal as he rides alongside of him on his mustang — was so 
greatly admired for its fideUty to nature, as well as for 
the life and spirit that she had thrown into the composi- 
tion, that her father was persuaded to have it cast in 
bronze. In this form it was placed on exhibition at 
Tiffany's in New York, at Bailey's in Philadelphia, and 
in like places in other large cities, and a great many were 
disposed of at fair prices, to the decided aggrandizement 
of the Henschel exchequer. 

It was during a journey that her father made to the 
"West, under the auspices of the Smithsonian Institution, 
and in which she accompanied him, that she obtained the 
requisite knowledge from life not only for the modelling 
of the Apache Indian and the buffalo, but for mounting 
many of the specimens in natural history that came to her 
hands. Congress had made an appropriation for construct- 
ing a road from Fort Kiley, in Kansas, to Bridger's Pass, 
in the Rocky Mountains, and the authorities in charge of 
the Smithsonian Institution, ever alive to the advantages to 
science to be derived from such expeditions, had obtained 
authority for Mr. Henschel and his daughter to accom- 
pany the engineer party and troops, charged with the 
laying out and making of the road, for the purpose of 
collecting specimens of the natural history of the region 
of country through which the route passed. This jour- 
ney had been of the utmost service to Barbara in more 



FATHER AND DAUGHTER. 69 

than one respect. It had enlarged her ideas, given her 
an acquaintance with nature in some of its wildest forms, 
which she could otherwise never have obtained, rendered 
her more self-reliant than she had ever been before, and 
put the finish to her physical organization, which, strong 
though it had been, was now rendered doubly so by the life 
in the open air for nearly six months, a horseback jour- 
ney of nearly two thousand miles, and that abstraction 
from the requirements of civilization which always invig- 
orates those upon whom its influence is brought to bear. 
Barbara was about eighteen years of age when this 
journey was taken. Since her return her father had con- 
stantly urged upon her the advantages that would accrue 
to her were she to devote herself exclusively to sculpture 
and modelling ; but she, knowing how necessary she was 
to him so long as he continued to carry on the business 
of a taxidermist, had resisted all his importunities. He 
was old ; it was not likely that, in the course of nature, he 
would live many years longer ; there was now plenty of 
work for them, and a good income was derived from their 
joint labors ; but Barbara knew that if she retired from 
the practical part of the business that orders would fall off. 
It was just as her father had said. The people who re- 
quired work done in taxidermy were well aware that 
Barbara was the artistic h^ad of the establishment, and 
they wanted her to superintend the mounting of their spec- 
imens. So far as she herself was concerned, nothing 
would have given her more pleasure than to have entered 
definitely upon an artist's career such as her father de- 
sired for her. On the morning that she is introduced to 
the reader he had spoken more openly upon the subject 
and more to the point than ever before. She had pre- 
viously known very little in regard to his financial condi- 



60 MR. OLDMIXON*. 

tion. She knew, however, that he must have laid by 
enough to place him and herself above want ; but now she 
was well aware, from her acquaintance with his modes 
of speech, that he was at least a moderately wealthy man. 
"When he admitted that he had enough to live on without 
work, and at the same time give her all the opportunities 
requisite for her obtaining proficiency in the art that he 
wished her to adopt as a profession, it meant that he had 
accumulated suflBcient of this world's goods to satisfy his 
ambition in that direction. She knew that he was of an 
acquisitive disposition. The only fault she had ever been 
able to detect in him was a slight tendency to avarice and 
miserliness. This was not possessed to an extent that ren- 
dered him an object of mark among those who knew him ; 
but occasionally, as the reader has already doubtless per- 
ceived, it cropped out. Yes, if he was willing to stop 
work and spend a small fortune to place her favorably 
before the world as an artist, he must be rich. 

It would be an easy thing to get rid of the business 
upon favorable terms. Peter, whose surname was Swain, 
had been with them in the capacity of an assistant and 
man of all work for nearly ten years. He had very little 
money of his own, but he had a wealthy friend who was 
willing to furnish the requisite capital for the purchase 
of the stand and the good-will as a set-off to his knowl- 
edge and time. Mr. Dibble, the gentleman referred to, 
had inspected the premises and examined the books, and 
had arrived at the conclusion that the fifty thousand 
doUare required for the purchase-money would yield 
over fourteen per cent profit, which, if he gave six to 
Peter, would leave him a net income of eight per cent. 
Peter, however, had other views, that were somewhat an- 
tagonistic to those of Mr. Dibble. The names of " Dib- 



FATHEE AND DAUGHTER. 61 

blo and Swain, Taxidermists," would look well in gold 
letters on a black ground across the front of the house ; 
but the name of ' ' Peter Swain, ' ' or even those of ' * Hen- 
schel and Swain," would look better. Peter had come 
from central New York when he joined his forces with 
those of Mr. Henschel. At the time that he is intro- 
duced to the reader he was about twenty-eight years of 
age, fairly good-looking, and possessed of such an educa- 
tion as the majority of farmers' sons in the State of New 
York pick up from the common schools. He was honest 
and attentive to his business, and Mr. Henschel had 
always given him good wages. Peter was, however, 
ambitious to better his condition, as is every American 
boy of average intelligence, no matter into what station 
of life he is bom. He wanted to succeed Mr. Henschel 
when the latter came to retire, and he wanted to be either 
his own master or to maintain only a nominal connection 
with the name of Henschel. The only way that he could 
perceive by which he could accomplish either of these 
ends was to marry Barbara Henschel. He was not in 
love with her ; in fact, such an element as sentiment did 
not enter into his mental organization. He was a matter- 
of-fact man, and marriage with him, if he ever married, 
would be an affair of the head and not of the heart — one 
that would be prompted by intelligence, and not by emo- 
tion. In this respect Peter was not unlike the majority 
of young people, men or women, who in these times enter 
into the matrimonial state. 

He had never hinted at such a thing to either Mr. 
Henschel or Barbara. While he had a very good opinion 
of himself, he was by no means sure that any advances 
ho might make in the direction in question would be 
favorably received by either of the parties concerned. 



62 MR. OLDMIXON. 

So far as family went, doubtless his was as good as hers, 
perhaps better ; but in the matter of their individualities 
he was not so blind but that he was ready to admit that 
hers was superior to his, and that when she contemplated 
marriage she would look for a man of better parte than 
was he. In fact, so distant did the prospect appear of 
his being able to accomplish the object that stood high 
up in his scale of desirable things, that he scarcely vent- 
ured to consider it as within the limits of probability, 
and had latterly been giving more attention to the culti- 
vation of friendly relations with Mr. Dibble than to mak- 
ing advances to Barbara. He had once tried to place 
himself in such a position as would, he thought, inevita- 
bly lead to the establishment of more intimate relations 
between himself and the Henschels than had heretofore 
existed ; but this attempt had met with such a decided 
repulse that it had very much the effect upon his wishes 
that a wet blanket has upon a fire. He lived away from 
the Henschels, and he had conceived the idea that it. 
would on several accounts be desirable for him to reside 
with them. There was a nice room on the third floor 
that would just suit him, and it would be much more 
comfortable for him to take his meals with them than to 
eat in the company of the rather irreverent young men 
who ridiculed his profession and who constituted the band 
of table boarders of Mrs. Daly's establishment. In his 
application to Mr. Henschel to be allowed to take up his 
abode with him he had placed the matter on the grounds 
of its affording him increased facilities for attending to 
the business ; and that as the room that he proposed to 
occupy was empty, the granting of it to him would, with 
his board, be the means of adding a respectable sum to 
the income of the Henschel family. 



FATHEB AND DAUGHTER. 63 

But Mr. Henschel was very decided in the expression 
of his indisposition to accede to Peter's views relative to 
the means of becoming more sociable with his employ- 
er's family. He stated that he and his daughter were in 
the habit of conversing during their meals on matters 
that concerned them alone, and that the intrusion of a 
third party into their family circle would be intolerable. 
He was, however, kind enough to state that he would 
consult with Barbara on the subject and ascertain what 
she had to say about it, though he could not give Peter 
any ground for hoping that the decision would be re- 
versed. He did lay the matter before his daughter, 
and her opinion was even more emphatic than that of her 
father against the desirability of any change in their home 
arrangements ; thereupon Peter had seen that there was 
not much prospect of his ever becoming, by marriage, a 
member of Mr. Henschel's family. But he was a good, 
honest fellow, who was held in high esteem not only by 
Mr. Henschel, but by Barbara likewise. He was well 
acquainted with the art of taxidermy so far as its prac- 
tical details were concerned, but he had never evinced 
much inclination for the scientific connections of the 
profession. He was literally an ^'animal-stuffer," and 
nothing more. His intentions toward Barbara were, 
therefore, almost as preposterous as would have been the 
love of a sailor on a man-of-war for the daughter of his 
captain. Barbara had the refinement that comes from 
education and association with educated and refined 
people. Her father's house was visited by learned men 
from all parts of the world, and she had been thrown 
into more or less intimate relations with many of them. 
She had thus become acquainted with their ideas on 
many subjects outside of taxidermy and with modes of 



64 MR. OLDMIXON. 

thought of which Peter Swain had not the most distant 
conception. Upon one occasion she had been invited to 
spend a month during the summer at the sea-shore with 
Mrs. Lawson, whose husband was professor of mineralogy 
and geology in the Franklin Scientific School ; and again 
another month with the family of Professor Senstone, at 
their country-seat on Cayuga Lake. It was no uncom- 
mon event for ladies whose husbands were of scientific 
proclivities to invite her to their houses, at which she was 
always treated with due consideration as a lovely, intel- 
ligent, and good girl, in whose society it was pleasant to 
be. From the associations thus afforded her, Barbara, 
without losing in the slightest degree the natural inde- 
pendence of her character, had acquired the polish of 
manner that can only come from personal communica- 
tions with persons of good breeding. Her father and 
mother and aunt, though plain people, were not unrefined. 
They had that intuitive repugnance to coarseness that is 
so generally met with in the European artisan of the 
highest class ; and though they might have felt out of 
place at a court- ball, for instance, they would certainly 
not have perpetrated, even in the presence of Majesty it- 
self, any act calculated to offend the sensibilities or to 
interfere with the comfort of the royal guests. Barbara, 
therefore, had started well, and her opportunities for ac- 
quiring a gentle presence had not been neglected. 

A residence of nearly fifty years in the United States 
had converted Mr. Henschel into a thoroughgoing Amer- 
ican. He spoke the language with the ease and fluency 
of an educated native, and often said, laughingly, that he 
believed Danish was fading out of his memory, as the oc- 
casions for using it were so few and far between. He 
did not, however, altogether break with the old country. 



FATHER AND DAUGHTEE. 65 

He had been, ever since his arrival, a subscriber to a 
Copenhagen newspaper, and he had made two visits to 
that city and to the little village where he was bom. The 
last one had been undertaken with the idea that he might 
possibly decide to return to his native land, and there 
pass the remainder of his days ; but he soon found that 
his long residence in America had given him ideas and 
habits entirely inconsistent with those of the people 
among whom he would have to live, and, moreover, that 
his old companions were either dead or had ceased to take 
any pleasure in his society. He had, tlieref ore, returned 
rather disgusted with Denmark and its people, and de- 
claring that the land of his adoption was good enough 
for him, and that he hoped that when the time came for 
him to die, he would be found in the country that had 
been his home for nearly half a century ; where his 
children had been born, and where the bones of his dead 
wife rested. 

From all of which it will doubtless appear to the reader 
that the father and daughter had much upon which to 
congratulate themselves. He had been successful far be- 
yond his most sanguine expectations, so far as material 
prosperity was concerned. The death of his wife and 
four sons had been heavy blows to him ; but with time the 
sharpness of them had been blunted, to which result the 
constant association with his daughter and a community 
of interests and opinions had essentially contributed. 
There was very little to disturb the mental equanimity 
that was such a striking element of his disposition. In 
fact, there was nothing but one subject that greatly dis- 
turbed him, and that was his ambition that Barbara should 
become famous. This idea had become a passion with 
him — a somewhat remarkable fact, for it is not often 



66 MB. OLDMIXOK. 

that an old man is capable of any very intense develop- 
ment of feeling in a matter that does not intimately con- 
cern his personal ease and enjoyment. The aged are 
almost invariably selfish, and Mr. Henschel was no ex- 
ception to the rule, save in the one respect mentioned. 
So far as his daughter was concerned, he was capable of 
making any sacrifice within his power to accomplish her 
well-being and happiness. Her future was the one 
theme upon which he was never tired of dilating, and he 
had spoken only the truth when he declared that when 
he could know that she had acquired the world-wide 
distinction to which he thought her genius entitled her, 
he would die content. To put her in the way, so far as 
he could, by any act or line of conduct, to reach the pin- 
nacle upon which he conceived that she ought to stand, 
was the one all-absorbing emotion that filled his breast. 



CHAPTER V. 

MAKING A WILL — JACK OLDMIXON. 

Mr. Oldmixon was as good as his word. A night's re- 
flection had only tended to make him more fixed in his 
intention of changing his will. He began, too, to flatter 
himseK that he was really actuated by a sense of right 
toward one whom he had hitherto shamefully neglected, 
and of stem justice toward that other, who had never in 
all his life done anything to deserve the unlimited kind- 
nesses of which he had been the recipient. He had 
arrived at the point of believing that no feeling of resent- 
ment entered into the matter, and with that facility with 
which people generally persuade themselves that the 
thing they desire to do is right, had brought himself to 
the conviction that whether Hogarth had or had not 
married Miss White he would in time, through his own 
seK-communings, have been prompted to act toward the 
young man exactly as he was now acting. 

" It was only a question of a few days or weeks, or at 
most months," he said to himself, as he was eating his 
breakfast at the Lucullus Club on the morning after his 
conversation with Barbara. '' I was rapidly arriving at 
the knowledge that 1 had made a mistake. This marriage 
of the scamp has only precipitated matters, that's all." 

He rang the bell that stood on the table. 

" Bring me a morning paper," he said to the waiter 
that answered the summons. " Any one will do." 



68 ME. OLDMIXON. 

'' Yes," he continned, as the man, having brought him 
a paper, had retired at an intimation that his presence was 
not required ; ^' here it is ! 

'^ 'Married on the 4th inst., at Trinity Chapel, New 
York, by the Rev. Thomas Colightly, Camilla, daughter 
of Jabez White, Esq., to Hogarth Oldmixon, son of the 
late Morley Oldmixon, Esq., and nephew of Victor Con- 
stantino Oldmixon, Esq. ' 

'^ The barefaced rascal, to dare to announce himself as 
my nephew I Little does he know what's in store for 
him. I'll give him a lesson in decency if I can't give 
him one in morality. I'd like to lay a horsewhip over 
his shoulders, and I'd do it, too, if I had one now and he 
was within reach of my arm." 

Then, after finishing his breakfast, Mr. Oldmixon, 
who never walked if he could help it, got into his coup6 
that stood at the door of the Lucullus, and drove down- 
town to the office of his legal adviser, Mr. Theobald 
Ridley. He had in a large pocketbook the will that he 
had made several years since and the draft of the new 
one that he wished put into legal form. 

Mr. Ridley was engaged when he entered the room in 
which clients waited till the great man of the law was 
ready to receive them ; so, having nothing better to do, 
he took out the paper containing the memoranda of the 
provisions of the new will he contemplated making, and 
perused and reperused them, with the object of as- 
certaining whether or not he had sufficiently covered his 
intentions with his words. Mr. Oldmixon had a clear 
head for business, and, besides that, he was, in spite of his 
eccentricity in the matter of one-sided love aflEairs with 
women he did not know — in which he displayed a de- 
gree of imbecility that would have disgraced an idiot — a 



MAKING A WILL — ^JACK OLDMIXON. 69 

shrewd, sharp man, who could see as far into other peo- 
ple's motives and schemes as was necessary for his purposes. 
He had not been deceived by his nephew Hogarth. He 
had always known that he was a bad fellow, but he was 
an Oldmixon in mind and body, whereas Jack was not ; 
and this fact had been the determining factor in causing 
him to make the will which he was now on the point of 
reversing. 

He did not, however, find anything to change, so that 
when Mr. Eidley sent for him he was more than ever 
firmly convinced that he had done, not only what he had 
intended doing, but that his intentions were right. 

The lawyer glanced over both papers while his client sat 
eying him keenly and observing, with gratification, the 
expression of astonishment that came over his counte- 
nance. Mr. Oldmixon's vanity was of such a high degree 
of development that it was gratified beyond measure 
when any act of his excited surprise or interest in those 
about him. He was pleased when he could arouse an 
emotion in others. It showed power. 

*' Do you know, Mr. Oldmixon," said Mr. Ridley, after 
he had made himself acquainted with the contemplated 
provisions of the new will, ^' that this is a somewhat re- 
markable paper ?" 

'^ Yes, Mr. Ridley, I am fully aware of that fact." 

" As I understand the matter, you desire to disinherit 
your nephew Hogarth and to make your nephew John 
your heir." 

^^ Precisely ! 1 think that is very evident." 

" Yes, yes, it's clear enough ;but in conjunction with 
your bounty to this young man you have imposed the 
most extraordinary conditions that I ever heard of, and I 
am not a man without experience in such matters." 



70 MB. OLDHIXON. 

" Yes, they are extraordinary, I admit ; bnt, then, the 
occasion is extraordinary." 

'' I am not quite sure that they would stand in law." 

'^ I'll risk that. I'm something of a lawyer myself, and 
1 am not altogether ignorant of such matters." 

^^ 1 suppose you have no objection to tell me the mo- 
tives that influence you in this matter ?" 

^ ' Yes, I have a very strong objection to doing anything 
of the kind." 

" Oh, well, it doesn't make any difference. I only 
thought there might be something in which you were 
misinformed or in which you were acting hastily." 

'' No ; I am fully acquainted with all the facts of the 
case, and 1 am acting with more than my usual delibera- 
tion." 

'* Then," said Mr. Ridley, looking over the paper that 
he still held in his hand, ^'as I understand the matter, 
you wish to give by your will your entire estate, real and 
personal, except the sum of one dollar, to your nephew 
John Oldmixon." 

^^That is my desire," answered Mr. Oldmixon, in a 
tone of voice as mechanical as though he were saying his 
catechism, for he thought he had made his intention 
sufficiently plain, and that Mr. Ridley's caution was su- 
perfluous. 

" And the condition is, that he shall, within one year 
after your decease, marry a certain lady whose name is left 
blank." 

" Yes ; I'll fill in the name ; but I've no objection to 
telling, in the strictest confidence, that her name is Bar- 
bara Henschel." 

^* And in case he should refuse or neglect, from any 



UAKINa A WILL — ^JACK OLDMIXON. 71 

cause whatever, to marry tlie said Barbara Henschel, then 
the estate is to go to her." 

Mr. Oldmixon nodded his head in affirmation. 

*^ 1 suppose you have not overlooked the fact that if 
Barbara Henschel should take the initiative in the matter, 
and declare that she will not marry your nephew, that she 
would become your heiress." 

" 1 am perfectly well aware of that fact, and I had it 
distinctly in view when I wrote out that memorandum." 

" Then you might as well, so far as the money is con- 
cerned, make her your heiress at once, for you have put 
it in her power to get your money. Of course you 
know that the probability is, that she will prefer to be 
her own mistress and to many whom she pleases." 

*^ 1 know all that as well as you do, Mr. Ridley," said 
Mr. Oldmixon, with a little stiffness of manner not devoid 
of impatience, ''and if the disposition of ray estate had 
been my chief object, I should have made a some- 
what different will from that that I now contemplate. 
Knowing you as well as I do, I suppose you are possessed 
of sufficient discernment to perceive that the bestowal 
of my money is not the prime purpose of the document 
I desire you to prepare." 

" You wish, above all things, to secure a marriage be- 
tween your nephew John and this Miss Henschel ?" in- 
quired Mr. Ridley. 

" Certainly I do !" 

" Then, don't you see that the provisions of the will 
must be kept an absolute secret from her — that, in fact, no 
one must know of thera except your nephew John ?" 

''Of course I do, Mr. Ridley I" exclaimed Mr. Old- 
mixon, jumping up from his chair and beginning to slash 
his shoes with his cane. " Of course I do! Do you 



72 MR. OLDMIXOir. 

take me for an idiot that doesn't know his own mind ? 
Of course I'm peculiar ; I show it in many of my acts, and 
1 suppose it is apparent in these memoranda ; but pe- 
culiarity is neither imbecility nor insanity, is it ?" 

"No," answered Mr. Kidley, laughing; "there are 
many examples of eccentric wills that have stood the tests 
of the courts. Mere eccentricity will not a£Fect the 
validity of a will. If it did, such a one as this" — ^taking 
as he spoke a law journal from the table and turning over 
a few leaves — " would have been upset beyond a doubt. 
Here," he continued, " is a man who is represented as 
having been a shrewd, successful business man, who had 
accumulated a large fortune. He had never exhibited 
any sign of insanity ; but 1 think you will admit that his 
will is even more eccentric than yours. He disinherits 
all his natural heirs, and devises all his property in trust 
for the establishment of an infirmary for cats. A most 
elaborate architectural plan for the necessary buildings 
is attached to and made part of the will. It provides 
areas for that sweet amatory converse so dear to the feline 
heart, and rat-holes of the most ravishing nature to be kept 
well-stocked. The most ingenious contrivances are pro- 
vided for securing to the rat a chance to escape, so that 
the cats may not lose the pleasure of the chase by finding 
their prey come too easily. High walls are to be built 
with gently sloping roofs for the moonlight promenade 
and other nocturnal amusements of the cats. The trus- 
tees are directed to select the grounds for this novel in- 
firmary in the most populous part of some great American 
city, and the devisees are to be protected by a competent 
force of nurses from the ravages of men and dogs. No 
person of the male sex is ever to be admitted within the 
walls, and no female that has children or that is under 



MAKING A WILL — ^JACK OLDMIXON. TS 

thirty years of age. There are a hundred or more minute 
directions that 1 pass over." 

" The man was crazy, of course !" said Mr. Oldmixon, 
contemptuously. " You don't mean to compare my will 
to that, do you ?" 

" Not exactly. I only intended to show you that there 
are more eccentric wills than yours. This one has just 
come before the courts, and has not yet been adjudicated 
upon. If it is sustained, you need have no fear of yours 
not being upheld. But I have not yet finished with the 
will for the protection and well-being of cats. One would 
suppose that in the foregoing provisions the testator had 
exhausted all the eccentricities of one man, however 
unique his nature ; but the last provision of the will seems 
more outrageously whimsical than any that precede it. 
Says the devisor : ^ I have all my life been taught to be- 
lieve that everything in and about man was intended to be 
useful, and that it was man's duty, as lord of the animals, 
to protect all the lesser species, even as God protects and 
watches over him. For these two combined reasons — ^first, 
that my body even after death may continue to be made 
useful, and second, that it may be made instrumental, as 
far as possible, in furnishing a substitute for the protec- 
tion of the bodies of my dear friends, the cats, 1 do hereby 
devise and bequeath the intestines of my body to be made 
up into fiddlestrings, the proceeds to be devoted to the 
purchase of an accordion, which shall be played in the 
auditorium of the cat infirmary by one of the regular 
nurses, to be selected for that purpose exclusively. The 
playing to be kept up forever and ever, without cessation 
night and day, in order that the cats may have the privilege 
of always hearing and enjoying that instrument which is 
the nearest approach to their natural voice.' " 

4 



74 ME. OLDMIXON. 

*'0f course," said Mr. Oldmixon, "such a will as 
that cannot stand, for it is contrary to public policy. The 
courts will make short work of it." 

"And I am not quite sure that yours is not open to 
the same objection. Don't you think it is contrary to 
public policy to bribe a man to marry a woman whom, 
perhaps, he does not love and can never love ?" 

" No, I don't !" repHed Mr. Oldmixon, promptly. 
" She will know nothing whatever of the provisions of 
the will, and therefore the only inducement she will 
have to marry him will be the fact that she loves him. 
If she does not love him she won't marry him, and then 
she will get the money. If she marries him within a 
year after my decease he will get the estate ; if she re- 
fuses to marry him, or marries some one else, or marries 
him after a year has elapsed, she will get it. Surely, it's 
all very plain, and I don't see anything in the provisions 
that is contrary to public policy." 

" Well, well, perhaps not ; I'll do the best 1 can with 
it. You want me to put these data into the form 
required by the laws of the State of New York ?" 

" Yes, of course ! That's what I came here for.*' 

" When will you be ready to execute the will ?" 

" I shall be ready this evening. Send it to me as soon 
as it is done, and I will sign it and have my act witnessed 
in due form." 

" And this other will, what do you wish done with it ?" 

" That you may destroy as well as this other that I 
made last night" — ^taking as he spoke another folded 
paper from the breast pocket of his coat and handing it 
to Mr. Ridley. 

"What's all this 1" exclaimed that gentleman, as he 
hastily ran his eye over the document. 



MAKING A WILL — ^JACK OLDMIXON. 75 

" Oh ! that's a will 1 made last night in case anything 
should happen^ to me before I had quite made up my 
mind in regard to the details of all that I wanted to do." 

** It isn't worth the paper on which it is written. It 
isn't properly witnessed, and may as well go into the 
waste-paper basket" — saying which Mr. Ridley tore it 
into several pieces and threw them under the table. 
'' The other, however," he continued, "is another thing. 
If you were to die before you execute your new will it 
would stand." 

" And if I destroy it, what then ?" 
' " In that case you would die intestate, and your estate 
would be divided among your heirs-at-law." 

" Then I shall not destroy it yet. I would -rather 
Hogarth should get my property than that it should be 
cut up into a dozen or more shares, as would be the case 
were I to die without a will. Give it back to me. I'll 
keep it till I sign the other. Then it will be worthless, 
whether destroyed or not." 

Mr. Ridley handed him the paper, and in a few min- 
utes thereafter Mr. Oldmixon took his leave, and entering 
his coup6 directed the coachman to drive to the '' Van- 
dyke" apartment house in one of the up-town streets. 

Mr. Oldmixon was a man of action. In fact, he had 
one of the most restless spirits that ever inhabited a 
human body. He was never quiet except when he was 
asleep, and, as a rule, he was not then in that condition, 
for he snored terribly and was a somnambulist — features, 
especially the last, that on several occasions got him into 
serious difficulties. 

He was now on his way to make a visit to his nephew 
John, or, as he was generally called, ** Jack," for the pur- 
pose of acquainting him with the kind intentions he had 



76 MB. OLDMIXON. 

formed relative to his future financial and matrimonial 
relations. 

lie knew very little of Jack. In fact, he had not seen 
him to speak to him for several years. Occasionally 
when he had been driving through the streets he had 
encountered his nephew trudging along on foot ; but their 
eyes had not met, probably because neither the one nor the 
other cared to allow them to do so, and not even a saluta- 
tion passed between them. Till this morning he did not 
even know where Jack lived, and he had been obliged 
to have recourse to a Directory to gain the necessary infor- 
mation. There he had found '' Oldmixon, John, artist, 
' The Vandyke,' 61 West ^th Street." 

Jack had always, in addition to the other virtues that 
his uncle gave him credit for possessing, shown a suffi- 
cient amount of independence to extort his relative's un- 
feigned though silent respect. He saw, while he was yet 
a boy, that for some reason or other he was not a favor- 
ite. At first this troubled him greatly, for he was of a 
warm and affectionate nature, and he was disposed to 
make advances, notwithstanding the fact that they gener- 
ally met with rebuffs. He was then under the impres- 
sion that there might be something in his conduct or his 
manner that was disagreeable to his uncle, and upon one 
occasion had made bold to ask if there was any ground 
for his fear, expressing at the same time his desire to 
correct it if his respected relative would be kind enough 
to enlighten him in regard to its character. 

For a moment Mr. Oldmixon had looked at the boy in 
astonishment, and then, with some confusion of manner, 
had said : ''I don't think it's worth while to talk about 
that matter now. I'll give you an education till you are 
twenty-one, and then you can look after yourself. I may 



MAKING A WILL — ^JAOK OLDMIXON. 77 

as well tell you, however, that all my money will go to 
your brother. " 

It was a cruel speech to make, and no one knew that 
fact better than Mr. Oldmixon himself. Bat he thought 
it would be as well to destroy at once and for all any ex- 
pectations that Jack might have formed of coming in for 
any portion of his estate. He had been for some time 
seeking an opportum'ty for doing so, and now it had 
come to him when he had least expected it. 

For the instant the boy looked as though he were about 
to burst into tears ; but he was a manly fellow, even though 
only sixteen years of age, so he controlled himself as well 
as he could, though his lips quivered a little and his eyes 
moistened. 

" I thought I would ask," he said at last, '^ for if there 
is anything I can do to make you like me, I will do it. 
Not that 1 want any of your money," he added ; '' Ho- 
garth is welcome to that." 

Mr. Oldmixon was not ordinarily brutal, but he felt 
the blood of his ancestors warming in his veins from some 
cause or other, and it was bad blood to get heated. He 
turned on the child, and with a scowl on his face said : 

" 1 like Hogarth because he is an Oldmixon. He looks 
like one, talks like one, acts like one. I dislike you 
because you take after your mother, and I never could 
endure her. There doesn't seem to be any Oldmixon 
blood in yoa, and, by Heaven ! I don't believe there is." 

The words were hardly out of his mouth when Jack 
sprang forward, and with all his young strength dealt his 
uncle a blow in the mouth that cut his lip and caused the 
blood to flow, besides loosening several of his teeth. He 
would have jumped upon him and have inflicted further 
damage had he not been grasped by Mr. Oldmixon 's 



78 MB. OLDMIXON. 

man and carried bodily, straggling and kicking with all 
his might, out of the room. That night he left the house, 
leaving a note for his uncle in which he declared that he 
would never receive another favor at his hands, nor even 
recognize him as a relative. " You are a liar and a ruf- 
fian,' ' he wrote. ^^ You insulted my mother, and if I had 
been let alone I would have killed you." 

From that time on there had been no intercourse be- 
tween the two. Jack had gone to a gentleman, a noted 
artist with whom he had a slight acquaintance, and had 
requested him to put hira in the way of applying to the 
court for a change of guardianship. There was no trouble 
in eflEecting the substitution of his friend for his uncle, as 
the latter united in the application, and Mr. Winfield 
Bageot became Jack's legal guardian and trustee of the 
small property left by his mother till the time of the 
boy's arriving at age. 

Jack's father had run through his estate in a few years 
after marriage, and then, as the reader has already been 
informed, was run through the body in a duel that he 
had provoked. Mrs. Oldmixon had always been del- 
icate, so that, though her husband's death was a good 
riddance to her, she had only survived him a few 
months. She left property yielding about a thousand 
dollars a year equally divided between her two sons. 
Jack had, therefore, after the rupture with his uncle a 
little over five hundred dollars a year upon which to keep 
body and soul together and complete his education. 
Under the guidance of his friend, Mr. Bageot, he got 
along very well, and after a couple of years more spent at 
school he began to learn something of art, with the in- 
tention of becoming a painter, provided he showed any 
talent in that direction. He did show talent. By the 



MAKING A WILL — ^JACK OLDMIXON. 79 

strictest economy he had saved enough to enable him to 
pay for his passage to Rome, and once there he was en- 
abled to live on his five hundred a year better than he 
could have lived on a like sum in New York. He stayed 
two years in Rome and one in wandering about Europe, 
stopping a month or two in each of Paris, Madrid, 
Vienna, Munich, Dresden, London, and other art centres, 
and working hard all the time at figure painting — ^the 
branch of the profession for which he thought he ex- 
hibited most talent, and which he greatly preferred to any 
other. By the time Jack returned to New York he had 
planted many good seeds, and planted them well, so that 
there was every prospect that he would be able to make 
his way to some degree of eminence in the line of work 
he had chosen. 

An artist has better opportunities for bringing himself 
before the public than has a member of any other pro- 
fession-— that is, of course, if there is anything in him 
that the public cares for. If he paints a good picture it 
is hung in a promineat place at some one or more of the 
art exhibitions, and is, perhaps, also displayed on the walls 
of his club house. It is described by the art critics of 
the daily papers and of the magazines that are, or are not, 
specially devoted to art interests. It is probably en- 
graved for the pages of some art journal or by some 
print-seller. It may even be chromo-lithographed. By 
all these means the artist is made known to society and 
the world at large. He is invited out, he is talked about, 
and his reputation is made. 

Jack Oldmixon went through all this, and had achieved 
what most young men in his position would have consid- 
ered splendid success. Every year since his return he 
had had one or more pictures at the annual exhibitions of 



80 MB. OLDMIXON. 

the National Academy, and they had been sold promptly 
at his own prices to wealthy men in various parts of the 
country. One of them had been purchased by Mr. 
Malters, of Baltimore, and this circumstance — as every 
one knew how accomplished a connoisseur Mr. Malters 
was — had of itseK largely aided in selling other produc- 
tions of his brush. The wealthy Mr. Smilax, of Chicago, 
had bought one and had given an order for another, the 
subject to be the Goddess of Beauty casting pearls before 
swine. Jack had thought long over this order before 
deciding to accept it, but at last he had concluded that 
something good could be made of the subject, and he 
had accordingly gone to work at it with great enthusiasm, 
and had produced a picture which the conoscenti de- 
clared showed real genius in the conception, and that it 
was a wonderful piece of composition and coloring. He 
had treated the matter symbolically, the swine being men 
and the pearls women. A.t first the Chicago gentleman 
— who was far more artistic in his tastes than many of 
those in the East who make pretensions — looked at the 
picture in amazement. The idea was so entirely diflEer- 
ent from the one he had formed of feeding swine with 
pearls that for a moment he thought there must be some 
mistake. 

" My dear fellow," he said, ^' I don't see the hogs." 
Jack smiled, but made no reply ; and in a little while 
the mental illumination came to his patron with a force 
that almost overwhelmed him. 

" By thunder !" he exclaimed, wringing Jack's hand 
with both of his as though he were squeezing the water 
out of a wet cloth. '^ You're a genius ! You've produced 
the finest thing of the time — one, sir, that will swell your 
reputation to such proportions that you'll hardly know 




MAKINO A WILL— JACK OLDMIXON. 81 

yourself. I wouldn't take five thousand dollars for that 
picture, and in ten years from now it'll be worth twenty. 
Give me a pen and ink, please." 

Jack gave him writing materials, and Mr. Smilax, pro- 
ducing a blank check from his pocket, sat down at a table, 
and in a moment or two handed the young man the prod- 
uct of his penmanship. Jack took it, glanced at- it, 
and handed it back. 

^^ This is for five thousand dollars," he said. ^* You 
are only to give me twenty-five hundred for the picture. " 

** My dear young friend," said Mr. Smilax, in his most 
insinuating tones, '^ it is one of the privileges of wealth to 
reward talent. When I engaged to give you twenty-five 
hundred dollars for a picture, I had in my mind one that 
1 thought would be worth the price. This is diflEerent, 
and worth a great deal more than that sum. As 1 just 
said, I wouldn't take five thousand for it. I feel that I 
am getting the best of the bargain when 1 tender you 
that amount for it ; but then, you see," he added, smiling, 
" as a business man 1 like to come out a little ahead." 

The end of the matter was, that Jack took the check, 
feeling that in Mr. Smilax he had secured an apprecia- 
tive patron. And he had ; for the picture, ^^ Casting 
Pearls before Swine," was the reason of getting him 
more orders than he could easily attend to. But he was 
industrious. Be worked fast, and when walking or 
driving, or when at the theatre, or during a lapse in the 
conversation at a dinner-party, he was thinking of his 
work, and framing mental images of persons and situa- 
tions. Many of these, upon reflection, he discarded ; but 
others were among his best conceptions. 

Then the great railway magnate and millionaire, Mr. 
Van der Linden, had called upon him, and had requested 

4* 



82 MB. OLDMIXON. 

a picture by him for his magnificent gallery. The gen- 
tleman knew a good deal about pictures. It would have 
been strange if he had not, for his great wealth had en- 
abled him to get together such a collection of the best 
works of modern painters as was probably unequalled in 
all the world ; and he had studied them thoroughly, as 
well as having made himself familiar with the produc- 
tions of all the schools represented in the galleries of 
Europe. It was his habit to spend every day an hour in 
the quiet contemplation of some one picture of his fa- 
mous collection. At four o'clock punctually he ceased 
serving mammon for the day, and, entering his coupe, 
was driven to his house. Then he repaired to his gallery, 
and, lighting a cigar, seated himself before some noted 
painting, and resigned himself to its study, endeavoring 
to obtain some conception of the ideas that had filled the 
mind of the artist, and that he had transferred to the 
canvas. 

This was the gentleman who, after great deliberation, 
had given Jack Oldmixon an order. He was accustomed 
to say that there was not a bad picture in his gallery, 
and that he did not intend that there should be one. 
When Jack had asked him for a subject he had an- 
swered that he wanted not only a picture, but a subject 
as well. 

^^ Fix your own price," he had said. '^ If the picture 
suits me I shall hang it in my collection ; if it does not, 
but is good, I'll give it to some friend ; but if it's bad, 
I'll destroy it. Tliere are enough bad pictures in the 
world without the number being increased by me." 

Jack had accepted the terms, had named his price, 
and had been assured that it was reasonable and just, 
large as it was, and had been for a week or more racking 



KAKLNQ A WILL — ^JACK OLDMIXON; 83 

his brain for a subject for what he intended should be 
the great effort of his artistic life. 

Thus matters stood with Jack at the time that his 
uncle was driving up Fifth Avenue on his way to resume 
relations that had been interrupted for more than a 
dozen years. The world and he had got along very well 
with each other. He had shown his independence and 
his ability to take care of himself. He had rarely met 
his brother since he had cut loose from his uncle. Mr. 
Oldmixon had directed Hogarth, on pain of incurring 
his implacable resentment, to cease all communications 
with Jack ; and Hogarth, being one of those astute 
youths that are wise in advance of their years, and are at 
the same time not possessed of principle beyond that of 
looking out for themselves, had seen on which side of 
his bread the butter was spread, and had scrupulously 
obeyed his uncle's commands. At first they had spoken 
when they had met in the streets ; but for the past ten 
years this fomaUty had been dispensed with, and they 
passed each other as though they were strangers. Take 
them all in all, the Oldmixons with which this history 
has to deal could not be looked upon as being a '' happy 
family." 



CHAPTER VI. 

^^WHAT BROUGHT TOU HERE?" 

It was with some degree of trepidation that Mr. Old- 
mixon got out of his coupe and ascended the staircase of 
the Vandyke apartment-house to his nephew's rooms. 
He did not have far to go, for they were on the first floor. 
In fact, the distance was so short that there was scarcely 
time for him to compose himself into such a frame of mind 
as would not reveal itself by his manner. Naturally he 
was nervous. Little things disturbed his equanimity 
unduly, and big ones acted with proportionately greater 
power. The janitor preceded him, and on arriving at 
the landing was about to usher Mr. Oldmixon into a 
reception-room while he took his name to the occupant ; 
but to this the gentleman would not listen. '^ I am his 
uncle,' ' he said, ^^ and it isn't necessary for me to be an- 
nounced as though 1 were his tailor. Show me his door, 
and I'll manage to get in without your assistance." 

The man went along the hall a few steps followed by 
Mr. Oldmixon, and at last stopped before a door on 
which was tacked a visiting-card bearing the name of 
'' John Oldmixon. " " That's the room," he said. " The 
gentleman's in" — pointing as he spoke to a little wooden 
label with the word ''In" printed upon it in large let- 
ters. '' All you've got to do is to knock," with which 
words he retreated, leaving Mr. Oldmixon to get in 
through his own devices. 



"what brought you here?" 85 

Fop a moment that gentleman hesitated. He was not 
quite snre of the character of the reception his nephew 
would give him. He knew that he had no right to expect 
any consideration, and he was very certain that had he 
sent in his name Jack would have peremptorily refused 
to see him. But he was also aware of the fact that he came 
strongly armed and with inducements for peace such as 
few, if any, nephews would care to resist. As he stood 
before the door he could hear some one, doubtless Jack, 
moving about the room, and — yes, actually whistling. 
That was a favorable sign. People don't whistle when 
they are cross. Jack must be in a good-humor, for not 
only was he whistling, but he was whistling that classical 
song "Whoa, Emma !" Nobody, Mr. Oldmixon would 
have sworn, ever whistled " Whoa, Emma !" when he 
was in a bad temper. 

So far, therefore, the indications for a peaceful inter- 
view were favorable. 

He knocked, and on hearing a loud " Come in" from 
the room, opened the door and entered. 

Evidently Jack had just been dressing, preparatory 
probably to going out, for he was in the act of putting 
his arms into the sleeves of a black frock-coat, when, 
turning his face to the door, he saw his uncle standing 
before him. 

His countenance changed. Evidently the influence of 
*' Whoa, Emma !" as a factor in causing the evolution of 
good-humor was not of a permanent character, for the 
expression upon his face now was not such as, for instance, 
a book-canvasser or a subscription agent would have pre- 
terxed to see. There was no element of excitement about 
it, but it was calmly, darkly, freezingly indignant. It 
was one that exhibited a potentiality for becoming dan- 



86 MR. OLDHIXON. 

gerous, and tliis idea of its character was increased by the 
fact that as soon as Jack recognized his visitor he appar- 
ently looked behind him involuntarily at the window, as 
though to ascertain its exact distance and location, with 
the view of making use of it for a purpose different from 
that which had led to its construction. 

The intrusion was so unexpected to Jack, that it re- 
quired an instant for him to grasp the situation. But his 
was a quick- working brain, and generally anticipated what 
was being submitted to its action before the matter was 
wholly unfolded. People said that when they talked to 
Jack Oldmixon he evidently saw the conclusions to which 
their remarks were leading long before they had fully 
stated their premises. The situation therefore was not 
long, so far as its obvious features were concerned, in 
being thoroughly comprehended, nor was he slow in ar- 
riving at a determination as to the action necessary in the 
premises. 

^' You !" he exclaimed ; " what brought you here ?'* 
Now, Mr. Oldmixon knew that he had every reason to 
expect a cool, perhaps even an angry, reception. His 
conscience pricked him not so much for what he had done 
to the boy, though on that score he did not in his present 
frame of mind hold himself guiltless, but for the disUke 
he had unjustly entertained for him, and for the cruel 
speech that he had made, more than twelve years ago, in 
regard to the boy's mother. For those sins — sins for 
which he knew there could be no adequate excuse, he re- 
proached himself bitterly, and for them he had antici- 
pated an unfriendly reception at the hands of his nephew. 
But to bo called on in that abrupt way to tell what 
had brought him there was not what he had expected. 
The object of his visit was not to be stated offhand and 



** WHAT BBOTiaHT YOTT HEBE?" 87 

in a few hasty words spoken on compnlsion. On the 
contrary, it was one that for its exposition would require 
all his shrewdness and diplomacy and an agreeable frame 
of mind in him to whom it was to be disclosed. Jack 
must be placated. That requirement was prominent in 
Mr. Oldmixon's mind, and how to fulfil it was now the 
question that absorbed all his powers of attention. For- 
tunately for his wishes, he was a man of ready resources 
and prompt action. He had often boasted of never hav- 
ing lost bis presence of mind, although it had been liis 
fortune to be placed in many trying situations. Besides 
that, he knew that Jack was of a generous and forgiving 
disposition, and he argued from this circumstance strongly 
for the success of his plans. Jack did not have to wait 
long for an answer. 

" I have come,'* said Mr. Oldmixon, bending his head 
in an attitude of humility, and looking down at a figure 
on the rug about a foot in advance of where he stood — ** I 
have come," he repeated, *^ in the first place to ask your 
pardon for my unjust and cruel language of many years 
ago. I have often thought of it since that time, and 1 
have never failed to censure myself for uttering words that 
I knew were false and that had no other excuse than my 
bad temper." 

"It seems to me," said Jack, not changing his expres- 
sion, ** that, considering that your insult was uttered more 
than twelve years ago, you have been a long time in ex- 
pressing your regret." 

" True ; I have been proud and unjust all that time, 
but I have none the less been aware of my fault. I have 
come to-day not only to ask your forgiveness, but to show 
you that I am sincere in ray repentance. I wish you to 
be friends with me once more. I am a changed man, and 



88 ME. OLDMIXON. 

my^vile language, uttered to you a boy, is not the only 
thing of which I have repented." 

Jack felt himself yielding. It was not in his nature 
to stand out against a repentance and a desire to undo a 
wrong so sincere as those exhibited by his uncle. Grad- 
ually his face cleared up ; and before Mr. Oldmixon 
had done speaking he had resolved to let ''bygones be 
begones' ' and to resume the relations that the ties of con- 
sanguinity justified. He had always regretted the aliena- 
tion, or, rather, he had regretted that Mr. Oldmixon had 
spoken as he had, not only because his words were an in- 
sult to his mother, but because they required a total sever- 
ance of all associations with the man that had spoken 
them. No sooner therefore had his uncle finished his 
little speech than Jack stepped forward with outstretched 
hands. 

''I am glad you are come," he said, while Mr. Old- 
mixon grasped the hands held out to him. '' You were 
wrong to say what you did, but it is manly and straight- 
forward for you to express your regret. I suppose we all 
do and say things when we are angry that we are sorry 
for afterward." 

'' Then it is all over between us !" exclaimed Mr. 
Oldmixon, his countenance expressing the joy he felt at 
this happy termination in accordance with his desires. 
'' Now, will you let me stay a few minutes and talk over 
matters with you ? Twelve years, Jack, my boy, since we 
have had a talk ! It's a long time for uncle and nephew 
to be separated." 

Before he had finished speaking Jack had rolled a big 
chair up to him, and Mr. Oldmixon had dropped himself 
into it. 

'' I'll talk with you as long as you like," said Jack, 



" WHAT BBOUaHT YOIT HEEE ?" 89 

equally pleased with the reconciliation that had taken 
place. '' Some of these days we'll exchange confidences 
in regard to our experiences during these last twelve 
yeai's. IVe got some interesting things to talk about, 
and so have you, I'm sure." 

" I've kept my eye on you, Jack, and I've been proud 
of you all the time. You're a great man now. I've gone 
to the Academy exhibitions every year, and I've looked 
for your pictures the first thing. You're ahead of them 
all, Jack. You're the greatest painter in New York, and 
I'm proud of you just as much as though you were my 
own son. " 

*^ You're very kind. Uncle Victor" — ^it was the first 
time Jack had given him the title of relationship. '' I've 
tried to keep up the name." 

*^ God forbid that you should keep up the name as the 
Oldmixons have kept it up ! We're a bad lot. Jack. 
You are the only one of us, so far as the family traditions 
go, that has been any credit to mankind. There's that 
scoundrel Hogarth—" 

'' Hogarth ! What has Hogarth done ?" 

*^ WTiat has he done?" almost shrieked Mr. Oldmix- 
on. ^^ What hasn't he done ? Everything but murder, 
and he isn't too good for that." 

^* Perhaps I should know more about it if you were a 
little more specific in your language. I haven't laid 
eyes on him for a year or more. Of course he has 
treated me very badly. I'm his only brother, and yet 
for twelve years he has been a stranger to me. There's 
something horrible in the idea of passing your own 
brother in the street and not speaking to him. The 
fault, however, has not been mine. I always spoke to 
him, and shook hands with him when we met till he cut 



90 MB. OLBMIXON. 

me dead, and then, of course, I took no further notice 
of him." 

« Mr. Oldmixon shifted himself uneasily on his chair 
while Jack was speaking, and his face underwent many 
changes of expression. 

** That was partly my fault, Jack. Indeed, 1 suppose 
I am wholly to blame. Still, he was very willing to do 
as I told him. He never remonstrated against my orders. 
A true man would never have obeyed them." 

*'No, I think not," said Jack. "If you had ever 
told me not to speak to him, I should have refused to do 
your bidding." 

" You haven't lost much. Hogarth is one of the most 
depraved men in the world. Of course I knew he was 
bad when I tunied you out of my house. But he was an 
Oldmixon, and that idea seduced me. Now I've had 
enough of him and of all the brood like him." , 

*' Bat what new offence has he committed ?" 

" Haven't you heard ?" 

'' I have heard nothing. I hope it is a small matter." 

" Small ! he couldn't have done anything much worse. 
He was married yesterday." With these words Mr. Old- 
mixon covered his face with his hands, and his body shook 
as though he were convulsed with grief. 

" Hogarth married !" said Jack, in some astonishment. 
" It's news to me. I suppose," he continued, in a tone 
of sympathy, " he's made a bad match." 

"No," sobbed Mr. Oldmixon, "he has married the 
loveliest girl in New York." 

" I don't understand, then, why you should be so dis- 
tressed over the affair." 

"It's very plain," said Mr. Oldmixon, removing his 
hands, and exhibiting a face on which traces of tears ap- 



"what brought you heee?" 91 

peared. " I'm sorry for the poor girl, that she should 
be mated for life to a blackguard and villain like Ho- 
garth — and — can you keep a secret, Jack?" turning his 
eyes on his nephew, and speaking quickly. 

" I suppose so," answered Jack ; " 1 don't think I'm 
a babbler ; at any rate, I'll keep any secrets of yours as 
long as you wish me to." 

" Well, then, Jack, that wretch has done me the great- 
est injuiy one man can do another, for I was deeply at- 
tached to the woman that is now his wife. She was so 
deep in my heart, that although she now belongs to 
another, I feel as though I could never give her up. 
Perhaps in time," he continued, with a more cheerful ex- 
pression of countenance, "I may become reconciled to 
my loss, but I think not. I do not see that I can ever 
love again, for I loved her more than I have ever loved 
any other woman. ' ' 

** Then," said Jack, with the proper amount of indig- 
nation in his voice, "she seems to have behaved very 
badly." 

"Oh dear, no !" exclaimed his uncle; "I don't see 
how you can think that. Her conduct has been admirable 
throughout." 

"I don't understand," observed Jack, with an ex- 
pression of hopelessness on his countenance. '"If she 
was engaged to you, and then married another man, it 
appears to me that most people would regard that as act- 
ing badly." 

" But she was not engaged to me. Who said she was 
engaged to me ? I've been in love forty- three times, and 
I have never once been engaged.' ' 

" Oh !" exclaimed Jack. 

" I don't see any occasion for an expression of aston- 



92 ME. OLDMIXON. 

isliment," said Mr. Oldmixon. " I was so unfortunately 
constituted as to be very susceptible and at the same 
time to be utterly devoid of confidence in myself. I am 
the faint heart that never won fair lady. My love has 
been silent, and I've 

* Let concealment, like a worm i* the bud/ etc." 

'* But," remarked Jack, scarcely able to keep his face 
from breaking into a smile, " you got over all the other 
affairs, so that in all probability you'll conquer this one 
also. " 

'* In time, perhaps, and with your aid. I look to you 
now, Jack. All my trust is in you, and," he added, 
after a little hesitation, " one other." 

*^ A lady ?" inquired Jack, this time being unable to 
keep back the smile. 

'' Yes, a lady, but not, as you appear to suspect, one 
that I am in love with. She is the very best of her sex, 
beautiful, intelligent, refined, well educated, good tem- 
pered, but not one iorme " — with a strong accent on the 
pronoun — ^^ to love. That is all over with me. My re- 
gard for her is that of a father for a daughter. With 
Camilla "White — whom that scoundrel Hogarth stole 
from me — not only was the last spark of the gentle pas- 
sion extinguished in my breast, but the fuel became 
exhausted. There is nothing there now but a burnt- 
out furnace, an extinct volcano, a cinder. What was 
once the sun is now the moon. I believe the moon is 
a dead planet or sun, or something of the kind, isn't it. 
Jack?" 

'* Keally, uncle, I don't know," answered Jack, scarcely 
aware whether or not an attempt was being made to per- 
petrate a joke. **1 am not up in astronomy, I have 



"what BEOUGHT you HEBE?" 93 

often heard the moon spoken of by young ladies of a 
sentimental turn of mmd as * cold ' and * pale — ' " 

'' That's it 1" interrupted Mr. Oldmixon ; " that's ex- 
actly the state of my heart, * cold ' and * pale.' " 

" Suppose you tell me all about it, uncle," said Jack, 
at last, having failed, from Mr. Oldmixon's references, to 
get a dear idea of the situation, and knowing that it would 
save time and trouble to be fully enlightened now. 
" That is," he added, ** if the story will not awaken too 
many painful recollections. You tell me that you have 
been in love forty-three times. You were joking then, 
surely." 

" No ; that is the exact number. When I last talked 
with you, Jack, you were too young to understand such 
things, and, besides, I was much more reticent then about 
myself than I am now. Forty-three times have I given 
my heart, and forty-three times has something — either 
death or another man — ^robbed me of her I loved. Do you 
wonder, then, that I have determined never again to think 
of a woman with a view to matrimony? Even if I 
wished to do so, I could not ; for, as I have just said, my 
heart is burnt out. Now give me your attention for a 
few minutes, and I will tell you of this last sad affair, 
and of the vile part played in it by your brother Ho- 
garth." 

Then Mr. Oldmixon related the history of his infatua- 
tion for Miss Camilla White from first to last, very much 
in the same words with which he had given it to Bar- 
bara. 

Jack listened with attention, rarely interrupting him 
with questions, and gradually, as Mr. Oldmixon went on 
with the recital, coming to the conclusion that his 
uncle, if not insane on the subject of his loves, was cer- 



94 ME. OLDMIXOK. 

tainly very near the border L'ne that, in the opinion of 
some psychologists, separates sanity from insanity. He 
had long known that the old gentleman was eccentric, 
and that all his life he had acted in a way diflEerent from 
that in which the average man would have acted under 
like circumstances. But the present experience was so 
extraordinary, there was so much earnestness in bis 
uncle's manner, such an evident conviction that he was 
reasonable and right in his opinions and acts, that Jack 
could hardly avoid the conviction that eccentricity had 
become actual insanity. He saw now what had been the 
exciting cause of the entire change of front that had 
taken place in his relative's opinions of his two nephews, 
and he reached the conclusion that but for Hogarth's 
interference in the way that had so provoked his uncle, 
the change of front would probably never have ensued. 
Mr. Oldmixon doubtless perceived what was passing 
through his nephew's mind, for he hastened to declare, 
with all the emphasis that he could bring to the assertion, 
that while it was true that yesterday's acts had capped 
the climax of Hogarth's misdoings, the rupture must 
have taken place ere long. It was in vain that Jack en- 
deavored, as had Barbara, to convince Mr. Oldmixon 
that Hogarth had in all probability been unaware of his 
uncle's attachment for Miss Camilla White, and that his 
conduct therefore had no element of disrespect or un- 
kindness in it. The reply was the same as had been 
given to her — that logic and love had no relation to each 
other — and he added that there were other crimes than 
disrespect and unkindness. 

'* Suppose, for instance," said his uncle, after Jack had 
put in what by a man capable of reasoning justly would 
have been considered a strong plea for his brother— 



** WHAT BEOUaHT YOU HERE ?" 95 

*^ suppose you are going down the street and a man ac- 
cidentally strikes you in the face with a whip, when he 
had intended to strike his horse, wouldn't you be angry 
with that man ? Of course you would ; and if you were 
high- tempered, as I am, you would, if you could, haul off 
and give him a good blow in return. It would be wrong 
for you to act in such a manner — unreasonably, illogically 
wrong. But if you would strike a man who by accident 
strikes yon, how much more should I strike the wretch 
who robs me of my heart's treasure ! You can't tell me 
anything about its injustice. Justice has nothing to do 
with it. I know it's unjust as well as you do. But the 
difference between my act and what yours would be 
against the man that struck you with his whip, is that 
mine is done deliberately and after due reflection, where- 
as yours would be the result of ill-temper. You would 
be sorry for yours almost as soon as you had returned the 
blow, whereas I rejoice at mine more and more with 
every hour of my life. No, no. Jack ; don't interfere 
with me in this matter. It's between Hogarth and me, 
and I'm going to give him the worst of it, as sure as my 
name is Victor Coustantine Oldmixon." 

*^I don't want to see you act unjustly, uncle. Ho- 
garth has been very unbrotherly to me, but that is no 
reason why I should, if I can prevent it, allow him to be 
treated unfairly." 

** Ah, that's it ! if you can prevent it ! But, my boy, 
you can't prevent it. Therefore, say nothing more about 
it. Now, shall I tell what is the next most important 
thing I have to settle with you ?" 

**If you please." 

" Well, it's this. As you know, when I was such a 
blackguard to you twelve years ago I made my will in 



96 ME. OLDMIXON. 

favor of Hogarth, giving him everything, and you noth- 
ing. I have just given orders for a new will to be 
drawn up, and in it for ' Hogarth ' you will read ' Jack ' 
— ^that is, my dear boy, I make you my heir, and I am 
quite sure that it will not be long before you will come 
into your own." 

Jack was not unprepared for this announcement ; it was 
the legitimate conclusion of what his uncle had been say- 
ing for the last half hour ; and though he did not think it 
a just act, yet he had no extravagant and transcendental 
notions of generosity to his brother that would stand in 
the way of his acceptance of the bounty tendered him. 
He therefore thanked Mr. Oldmixon for his kindness, 
and expressed his intention of doing nothing that could 
be regarded as showing a want of appreciation of the 
favor shown him. 

Mr. Oldmixon deliberated with himself for a while as 
to whether he had better tell Jack of the condition con- 
tained in the will, or leave that for another time, when he 
and his nephew had become better acquainted with each 
other, and were on more familiar terms than they were 
then. Finally, he concluded to defer it. He reasoned 
that Jack would be more likely to accept the condition 
after he had fairly grasped the idea of being heir to half 
a million dollars, and had sufficiently contemplated the 
advantages that the money would give him. 

^' He'll be less apt to kick," he said to himself, ^^ when 
he thinks of what he'll have to give up." 

Then after inviting Jack to dine with him at the 
Lucullus that evening, he took his departure, and Jack 
was left alone to think of the sudden augmentation of his 
fortune that had so suddenly come to him. He walked 
up and down the floor for fully half an hour, whistling a 



*'WHAT BEOUGHT YOU HEEE?'' 97 

variety of popular airs ; and then, having finally settled 
down into a state of comparative mental repose, went 
to make a call on Mr. Vander Linden, to communicate 
to him the perfected views he had formed relative to the 
subject for the picture he was to paint for that gentle- 
man. 

5 



CHAPTER YU. 

*^A FEAST FOR THE GODS." 

Thebe were few persons in New York that knew as 
much about gastronomic science as did Mr. Oldmixon. 
He was familiar with all the noted places in the old world 
where good dinners were to be got, and he was in the 
habit of saying that the man that was fond of artistic 
cookery, as well as of dinner-table aesthetics generally, 
could have his sense of the fitness of things in these 
respects more thoroughly satisfied in the city of New 
York than in any other place on the face of the earth ; 
and not only this, but that there were better wines to be 
found at the clubs of that metropolis and in the cellars 
of its famous dinner-givers and hostelries than could 
be procured in London, Paris, Vienna, or any other 
European city. 

'' You see," he said upon one occasion to a group at 
his club, '^ an Englishman or a Frenchman is never will- 
ing to profit by the experience gained out of his own 
country till it has been crammed down his throat on the 
prongs of a fork for half a lifetime, whereas an Ameri- 
can picks up good ideas wherever he can find them. 
Now, here is Lord Glen dale, who sets up for knowing 
something, and who, I know, has lived in Paris two or 
three months in every year since he became of age, and 
he's no chicken now, although he tries to make himself 
look as young as possible. Well, I dined with his lord- 



"a feast foe the gods." 99 

ship last night at Askman's, and after dinner we lit onr 
cigars and walked home together, where we had a little 
game of poker, of which his lordship is exceedingly fond, 
but of which, between you and me, he hasn't the faint- 
est scintilla of an idea. He plays it as he would whist. 
As I was saying, we walked home together, and Lord 
Glendale began to talk about the dinner. Now, my boys, I 
think you will all admit that whatever may be our private 
opinions of Askman, he knows how to give a dinner such 
as Brillat-Savarin could not have found fault with. And 
I assure you on my honor as a gentleman and my repu- 
tation as a gourmet that that dinner was a gem. There 
was not a single unartistic feature about it. The menu 
was perfect. The wines were delicious ; those that were 
to be cooled were cooled to exactly the proper tempera- 
tures, and his Bordeaux and his Burgundy had that pre- 
cise difference of five degrees that only the most highly 
cultivated taste knows ought to exist. Sixty for the Bor- 
deaux ; sixty-five for the Burgundy. And, what is of 
more importance, the wines were served in exactly the 
proper order. As to the table, it was perfection ; and the 
company — well, 1 won't say much about the company ; 
but when I tell you that Demue and Bass and Coats were 
there, and a half a dozen women, the like of whom for 
beauty and intelligence and esprit can't be found through- 
out the whole extent of the United Kingdom, you'll 
agree that nothing was wanting on that score." 

*'0h, we know all about that," interrupted young 
Wildmay. *' Tell us what his lordship said. Glendale's a 
good fellow. He's invited me to Glendale Castle for a 
month's shooting next season. I'd like to have his opinion 
about dinners, because I'm going to give him one here 
next week." 



100 MB« OLDMIXON. 

Mr. Oldmixon surveyed the young man contemptu- 
ously for probably six seconds ; a long time for such a pro- 
cedure. 

" Wildmay," he said at last, "do you ever read the 
Bible?" 

" Oh, come now, Uncle Victor," exclaimed the young 
man — " Uncle Victor" being the name generally applied 
to Mr. Oldmixon by the younger members of the club — 
" don't begin a theological lecture. Our minds are not 
set in that direction." 

" My dear young friend," said Oldmixon, putting on 
his most gentle and courteous manner — a sign that he was 
about to annihilate the person to whom it was addressed 
— "far be it from me to give you a lecture upon any- 
thing, much less upon theology, or to say a word that 
would tend to set your mind in action. I was simply going 
to ask your attention to that verse of Scripture that re- 
bukes the tendency of some young men to push them- 
selves to the front before their elders and betters, by advis- 
ing them to Harry in Jericho till their beards be grown.' 
I know you are one of those gentle youths that do love a 
lord. Tou were kind enough, too, to invite me to be 
one of those that you have selected from among your ac- 
quaintances to meet the noble lord ; but I have to request 
that if the dinner is to be in accordance with his ideas, 
you will count me out." 

"Now, Wildmay," said Mr. Brooks, a man of about 
forty, "you see what comes of your damned obtrusive- 
ness. Why the devil can't you let Uncle Victor alone ? 
1 may tell you now for your satisfaction that Lord Glen- 
dale told me yesterday that the chief object he had in 
view in accepting your dinner was that of meeting Uncle 
Victor. The best thing you can do now is to go down 



"a feast fob the gods." 101 

on your knees to Uncle Victoi" and beg his pardon for 
interrupting him. " 

'' Oh, I'll do that !" said Wildmay. '' Consider me 
on my knees, Uncle Victor, and asking your pardon." 

" Go, boy I" said Mr. Oldmixon, magnanimously. ^^ I 
forgive you ; but be more careful in future. Remem- 
ber, that though the sight of such as you may be refresh- 
ing to the eyes, as is the green field to the kine, the ear 
would fain know you not. 

" His lordship," continued Mr. Oldmixon, "had the 
temerity to find fault, not only with that dinner, but with 
every other one to which he had been invited in New 
York. ^ Oldmixon,' said he, ' I've dined now with some 
of your heaviest swells, and not once have I seen a piece 
of roast beef on the table ; and yet I take it that most of 
your fellows have been in England, and have dined round 
with some of our people who know what dinners are.' 
For a moment I was speechless. At last I gasped out : 
* Roast beef at a dinner party ? If a man were to invite 
me to dinner — ^now listen, Wildmay — and were to give 
me roast beef, while I trust I should have sufficient re- 
spect for myself to swallow the vulgar edible, I should 
make a resolution never again to put my legs under his 
table.' 

" He laughed at this. ^ But,' he went on, ' he gave 
us no champagne till the dessert came. Now in England 
we always take our champagne — when we have it — with 
the roast.' 

" Well, my dear boys, at this I almost fainted. * Cham- 
pagne with the roast,' I muttered ; then I roused my- 
self. ' Lord Glendale,' I said, ' champagne is the wine 
that is to be drank up to. How can a man that has swilled 
champagne in the early part of his dinner enjoy ChA- 



, %.. <i^*^. .jf1kA>N^-». . . ^.^ 



102 

tean Lafitte and Cks de Y^n^eot afkcrwmrd ! It is simply 
impoesible. His palate h rmned for that day as soon as 
the first swallow of champagne goes down his throat.' 

** Well— could you bdiere it ! — he said that nothing 
satisfied his thirst — ^that's the word he nsed — ^like a big 
goblet of cracked ice and champagne. Now, my dear 
boys, yon all know — ^unless TTildmay is an exception — 
that there are two kinds of champagne fiends. The one 
gives you your wine hot, arid the other gives it to you 
with ice in it. If heaven is open to people belonging 
to either of these classes, I don't want to go there. I 
suppose it will be more tolerable for Sodom and Gromor- 
rah in the day of judgment than for one of them ; but I am 
inclined to think that of the two the ice fiend will have a 
little the bettor chance. To be sure, he reduces Pommery 
Sec to the level of ginger-ale or root-beer ; but his inten- 
tions are good ; and though hell is said to be paved with 
good intentions, ho will probably have a comparatively 
oool plrtco there. " 

•' YoH," said Brooks, laughing, while Mr. Oldmixon 
looknd from one to the other, with an air of satisfaction 
on hin (*onntonanco, as though he had demonstrated a most 
important fact, '' his intentions being cool, his place with 
hi« Satanio Majonty will be of a like character." 

** Ytn4, tluvt's what I mean. Ha ! ha 1" 

•* For my part," said Wildmay, ^'I like my cham- 
|H^u^ />Nr/y*f»' -frozen, you know." 

Mr, Oldmixon put on his hat, drew on his gloves, but- 
t^uunl \\\h mmt, and thou bowing to each one of the group 
^wpt WildmuY, turned as though about to leave the 
hHviu, SuddotUy ho 8topi>od, and addressing that rather 
letWtfAUou iiulividuaU wud : 

^* Mj iNVWt y^nmg f riond* I recollect that I have an 



''a feast foe the gods." 103 

• 

engagement for the evening that your dinner comes off, 
and therefore I shall have to ask yon to excuse me. I 
am very sorry ; for if there is anything that 1 particularly 
like it is frozen champagne. It is so nice to have your 
butler going round the table and slapping his hand on 
the bottom of the bottle in order to get the congealed 
liquid to flow through the narrow neck. The noise is an 
agreeable diversion, and the act attracts the attention of 
the company, and saves them the necessity of listening 
to some bore who may be telling a long story. Besides, 
there is always a fine chance of the contents of the bottle 
— not wine, it is no longer wine — ^under the influence 
of some more than usually strong thump, coming out 
with a gush and spattering the table-cloth or the ladies' 
dresses. Such a timely accident always causes a laugh, 
and therefore interrupts the monotony that otherwise 
would be tiresome. Then — and this is the chief advan- 
tage — it is so much more convenient to eat your wine 
than to drink it. I would suggest that you serve it as a 
sorbet with spoons. Tes, I am extremely sorry that 1 
shall not be able to assist at so delectable a feast as yours 
will be ;" and with a profound bow to the extinguished 
Wildmay, Mr. Oldmixon left the room. 

"Run after him, Wildmay!" exclaimed Brooks. 
^^ You can't get along without Uncle Victor, and Glen- 
dale won't come if he doesn't. Tell him he may order 
the dinner. That's what he wants. It will cost you 
twice as much as if you ordered it, but then it will be 
perfect.' ' 

'^ I'll be hanged if 1 do !" said "Wildmay. ^' He may 
go to the devil ! By George ! he's getting to think that 
nobody but himself knows anything, and you fellows all 
help him to keep up that delusion. Besides, I think he's 



104 MB. OLBMIXON. 

as mad as a March hare on some things. See- how he 
treats Jack Oldmixon and cuddles that scamp Hogarth. 
1 know lots of people who think he's a lunatic." 

'' Just as you please," rejoined Brooks, while the others 
intimated by a few words that they thought Wildmay 
had better catch Uncle Victor before he got out of the 
club house. "It's your dinner, you know. But 1 can 
tell you, my dear boy, that if you don't propitiate that 
great man you'll rue it to the last day of your life. 
Another thing, too, you'd better bear in mind : don't act 
on the assumption that Uncle Victor's crazy. He's queer 
sometimes, I admit, and he's done some of the most pre- 
posterous things that a man ever did ; but for all that he's 
got a head on his shoulders, dear boy, that it would be 
dangerous for you to trifle with. You'd better overhaul 
him before he get's away." 

" Confound it all !" exclaimed Wildmay ; " with every 
one of you against me, I suppose there's nothing else for 
me to do. You'd better call this Oldmixon's Club, for 
hang me if he doesn't run the whole establishment." 

He left the room, and it's needless to add succeeded in 
placating Mr. Oldmixon by giving him carte blanche to 
arrange not only the menu, but the decorations also. 

From all of which it will be sufficiently apparent to 
the reader — if he or she has not already acquired that 
idea — that Mr. Oldmixon was a power, and a despotic 
one at that, in more than one circle in the city of 
New York. 

Jack was at the Lucullus at seven o'clock precisely, 
and his punctuality elicited the warmest encomiums from 
his uncle, who was on hand in the reception-room. 

'Tve invited Brooks and a Mr. Partridge of St. Louis 
to join us," he said. '^ Brooks you know, of course, and 



"a feast foe the gods." 105 

Partridge is a picture-collector. He's just got back from 
Paris with the last picture of some great painter." 

'^ Yes, 1 know Brooks, and I know Mr. Partridge also. 
He gave me an order yesterday." 

" The devil he did ! Well, Jack, you seem to have 
got to about the top of the ladder. I hope you won't be 
spoiled, my boy." 

" 1 don't think there's any danger of that," answered 
Jack, laughing. " What success I have had has come 
from hard work, and therefore I am not likely to estimate 
it at more than it's worth. " 

" Pm proud of you, my boy ; and to think that I should 
have cut myself off from a man like you to take up with 
one like that blackguard Hogarth ! The snake in the 
grass ! He has bitten the bosom that warmed him ! That's 
it ! That's just what he's done, the ungrateful serpent !' ' 

"Well, uncle,' ' said Jack, " as I said to you this morn- 
ing, I can't agree with you in this matter. Hogarth may 
be a bad fellow. I have no reason to praise him ; but 
common justice, 1 think, requires that he should not be 
blamed for marrying a woman who he had no idea was 
beloved by you." 

" We won't talk about it. Jack, especially as here are 

our friends," as two gentlemen approached ; " but I must 

say once and for all, as I've already said a dozen times, 

that ^common justice' may go to the devil. It has 

nothing to do with the case. How are you. Brooks ? 

Good-evening, Mr. Partridge. You both know my 

nephew, Mr. John Oldmixon, I believe. Come 1 We'll 

take the elevator. We'll make a nice little pa/rtie ca/rrie. 

I wouldn't take a thousand dollars for the enjoyment I 

expect to get out of this dinner and your society for the 

next three hours or more. " 
6* 



106 MR. OLDMIXON. 

" I think," said Mr. Brooks to Jack, as they were go- 
ing up in the elevator, *' that there isn't a living mar 
that enjoys a good dinner more than does your uncle, and, 
I may add, knows better how to give one." 

" That is no small praise, Brooks, " said Mr. Oldraixon \ 
^* for I look upon you as one of the few men now living 
whose opinion on the subject is worth anything. As for 
me, dinner-giving stands at the head of the arts and 
sciences. I came across an old book a few days ago," he 
continued, as he took Mr. Partridge's arm on getting out 
of the elevator, while the party crossed the hall to the 
room in which they were to dine, " that contains a sen- 
tence that embodies my idea exactly. It is to the effect 
that no man is fit to govern an empire who does not know 
how to give a dinner to his friends." 

^^I think there is some truth in that," said Mr. Par- 
tridge, laughing. *' Certainly, the best Presidents we 
have had have been those that gave the best dinners." 

" Yes ; the qualities necessary in a giver of good din- 
ners do not differ from those requisite in a great and 
good ruler," said Mr. Oldmixon, after his guests had 
taken their seats and he was unfolding his napkin. " If 
ever I am a candidate for a high office, 1 want only one 
war-cry to be sounded in my behalf — ^ He gives good 
dinners.' " 

"I am afraid," rejoined Mr. Partridge, raising a 
Blue Point oyster scarcely larger than the end of his 
thumb to his lips, *^ that in this selfish age the announce- 
ment would not do you much good unless you added the 
words, * and you are all invited to them. ' Then you'd 
get votes." 

^^ I shouldn't object to the number so much as I 
should to the kind of people I should have to invite, ' ' 



"a feast foe the gods." 107 

Baid Mr. Oldmixon, wlio was now in his element. ^^ Big 
dinners, however, are generally dreary affairs. Think of 
that one given to the Goddess Bubastis, on the banks of 
the Nile, at which seventy thousand sat down at the 
table and seven hundred thousand looked on, and at 
which more wine was drunk than in all Egypt during 
the rest of the year ! Jack, my boy, what do you think 
of that Montrachet ? Don't mind my asking such ques- 
tions, my friends," he continued, addressing his other 
guests. '' This is a Uttle family affair, at which we are 
at liberty to criticise the wines and the dishes. I've got 
a surprise for you in the next course after the soup, in 
regard to which I shall want your individual opinions. 
It's a new dish, an original one — one of my own de- 
vising ; and if it's successful, I would rather be the 
inventor or the discoverer of it than to be the first man 
to reach the North Pole." 

Jack gave it as his opinion that the Montrachet was 
excellent. 

'^ It's so much better," he ventured to say, '' to drink 
white Burgundy with your oysters than that sweet 
Yquem, which is certain to deaden your taste." 

*' That's right, my boy I" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon. 
^' Good Heavens ! how delighted 1 am to hear you enunci- 
ate an opinion like that. The ooly wines fit to drink 
with your oysters are Chablis and Montrachet. Tquem 
is a dessert wine, and only fit for women at that ; and yet 
there are people pretending to a knowledge of oinology 
who hand it to you as soon as your legs are under their 
table. Faugh I" 

^'I see you had a nephew married yesterday," said 
Brooks, changing the conversation. ^^ Hogarth ; I don't 
know him. He's been away, hasn't he ?" 



108 MB. OLDMIXON". 

Nothing could better show the difference between insan- 
ity and eccentricity than Mr. Oldmixon's ability to re- 
strain the manifestation of any of his peculiarities when- 
ever he thought it advisable to do so. He had no inten- 
tion of opening his family closets, and of displaying the 
skeletons therein contained either to Mr. Brooks or Mr. 
Partridge. He did not, as may be supposed by some 
persons, bearing in mind the anxiety he showed to un- 
bosom himself to Barbara Henschel, go about talking in 
clubs and other places of social resort of his loves and of 
his intentions toward his nephews. He was prone to 
form sudden intimacies with people that impressed him 
by their possessing some agreeable feature of mind or of 
person, and he was equally disposed to contract dishkes 
from the opposite influences. The difference between 
him and most persons in these respects was that his likes 
and dislikes were often — not always by any means — of so 
preposterous a character as to be altogether unexplainable 
upon any theory based upon normal human experience. 
Such, for instance, had been his affection for his nephew 
Hogarth, a person who, as boy and man, had scarcely a 
redeeming quality, but who would probably, nevertheless, 
have remained his favorite had he not unconsciously in- 
terfered with his uncle's love-affair. The immediate in- 
clination that he had manifested for Barbara Henschel 
was probably only a caprice, that he himseK would not 
have been able to explain. He had placed it to her dis- 
play of philosophy at his first interview with her ; but as 
we have seen, she had not shown any evidence of an ac- 
quaintance with the subject, and it is probable, therefore, 
that he deceived himself on this point. That he should 
have been attracted by that indescribable charm that she 
possessed — a charm that was not exactly beauty, but rather 



^'a feast fob the gods." 109 

a potentiality for beauty, as well as by the sweetness of her 
manners, was not surprising ; but that he should have 
carried it to the extent of making her his confidante and 
the arbiter between him and his nephews was certainly 
not an act compatible with the idea that his mind was a 
normal one, acting within the limits of perfect mental 
health. Most people, no matter how regularly acting 
are their brains, perpetrate acts that are essentially insane 
— acts, in fact, that if committed by a lunatic having the 
freedom of the asylum ward, would certainly lead to his 
being put in a strait-jacket, or some other kind of dur- 
ance, or to a further extension of the period of his se- 
questration. Mr. Oldmixon appeared to be especially 
liable to say or do something that would be called insane 
by any competent alienist, and yet in the generality of his 
acts to exhibit a strength of purpose and of will and a 
capacity for thought of a robust character that the most 
intellectual man alive might have envied. In the mat- 
ter of his love-affairs he had come very near to positive 
lunacy, if he had not actually crossed the line ; but he had 
shown an ability to get out of them with as great a de- 
gree of facility as to enter into them, and had finally 
announced that never again would he entertain the emo- 
tion of love in his heart. This power was one that no 
lunatic could have possessed. It really seemed as though 
he had the ability to become sane or insane at will. He 
had frequently reasoned with himself on this point, and 
had arrived at the conviction that he really did possess 
this somewhat dangerous power. 

While Brooks was referring to Hogarth's marriage, 
Mr. Oldmixon was determining what answer he should 
give. Before the speaker had finished, he had fully re- 
solved upon the reply to make. He knew that his change 



110 ME. OLBMIXON. 

of a£Eection from one nephew to the other would sooner 
or later become known, and he very shrewdly resolved 
that the announcement should come from himself. 
Brooks was something of a gossip, as are most club men, 
and Mr. Oldmixon knew that before twenty-four hours 
had expired the story, as he was now about to give it, 
would be all over New York. 

^ " Yes," he answered ; '' my nephew Hogarth was mar- 
ried yesterday to a lady who is, I understand, one of the 
worthiest of her sex. She is entirely too good for him. 
Henceforth I do not expect to have any friendly rela- 
tions with my nephew Hogarth. I hope never to see him 
or even to hear of him again. My nephew Jack, from 
whom for many years 1 have unfortunately, through my 
own acts, been estranged, has been good enough to forgive 
me, and henceforth will be my adopted son. It would be 
unbecoming in me on this occasion to express my opin- 
ion of either of my nephews ; but it can readily be infer- 
red from what I have said. Now, gentlemen, that I have 
discharged an unpleasant, though an imperative, duty, let 
us change the subject. " 

^^ By George, Uncle Victor I" exclaimed Mr. Brooks, 
who with the other two gentlemen had listened with the 
greatest attention to Mr. Oldmixon 's remarks, ^' that is 
the manliest and most straightforward speech I ever 
heard. You're a trump I" 

*^ Allow me to shake you by the hand, Mr. Oldmixon," 
said Mr. Partridge, with equal warmth, but, as was nat- 
ural in a stranger, with more dignity. '* Your nephew is 
certainly to be congratulated on having an uncle not 
ashamed to admit his fault ; and I have no doubt you are 
equally to be congratulated on your nephew. " 

As to Jack, his heart was too full to speak. He had 



''a feast fob the gods." Ill 

appreciated at its real value every word his uncle had said, 
and he began to think that a total revolution had taken 
place in his character. And he admired above all else 
the decision and strength of mind that had been exhib- 
ited in seizing the opportunity that had been oflfered 
for making an explanation, thus forestalling preposterous 
rumors that would otherwise be sure to arise, as well as 
the relation that might be set afloat by what was now 
the other side of the house. Finally he managed to 
stammer out his thanks to his uncle, and then the dinner 
proceeded. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

A HOBBIBLE DEED. 

^' My friends," said Mr. Oldmixon, after they had fin- 
ished their soup and were scanning their menvs with a 
view of forming pleasant anticipations of the next course, 
^' I have taken the liberty of asking you to assist in the 
inauguration of a new dish. It is one that I have myself, 
after much thought and no little labor, discovered and in- 
vented. It is the one that I am now about to refer to 
your critical judgments, and this will be the first time that 
any one save your humble servant will have submitted it 
to the action of his gustatory nerves. I have named it, 
in honor of myself, PeUtes croustades a la Oldmioson.^^ 

As Mr. Oldmixon finished speaking, a servant entered 
with a dish elaborately garnished, which he placed on the 
table before that gentleman, and after leaving it there a 
few moments for the admiration of the company, proceed- 
ed to hand it round, while Mr. Oldmixon went on with 
an account of the wonderful delicacy. 

^ ' I shall not tell you what it is, ' ' he said, ^* till you have 
eaten it and given me your honest opinions of it. And 
mind, I want your real, honor-bright opinions ; for if this 
production is bad or indiflferent I want to know the fact 
just as certainly as though it were good. Such palates 
as you gentlemen possess are of infinite use to the gastron- 
omist, especially to me ; for as I get older I fear I am 
losing that dainty, discriminating, and penetrating sense 



A HORRIBLE DEED. 113 

of taste for which I used to be distinguished. Now, my 
friends, let us in silence concentrate our attention on what 
the gods have given us." 

Brooks was the first to speak. * ' By all the deities that 
ever feasted on Mount Olympus," he exclaimed, shaking 
hands across the table with Mr. Oldmixon, " I can keep 
silent no longer. That is, without exception, the most 
delectable morsel that ever went down my throat. You 
ought to be crowned king of the gastronomes." 

"Yes," said Mr. Partridge ; "you have capped the 
climax of a long and honorable life with a performance 
that of itself will hand down your name to posterity as 
one of the greatest benefactors of mankind. Dainties 
like this cause us to think that there is, after all, something 
godlike in the human mind. " 

Mr. Oldmixon was delighted. He bowed and smiled 
and rubbed his hands together, and uttered many little 
deprecatory speeches, which, however, deceived no one. 

" Now, Jack, my boy," he said, addressing his nephew, 
who had already, with the others, been helped a second 
time, " you are an artist, and can therefore sympathize 
with a brother artist, even if he does work in a different 
and perhaps a humbler field. What do you think of my 
new dish ?" 

" What I could say, " replied Jack, " would be common- 
place after the encomiums of Mr. Brooks and Mr. Part- 
ridge, who are both such consummate gourmands ; but I 
think 1 detect in this most exquisite compound a quality 
that will commend it to those who are in search of new 
sensations. You know, doubtless, that physiologists have 
discovered that there are nerve papillae that only react to 
certain stimuli, or perhaps I should be more correct were I 
to say that there are certain nerve-centres that only re- 



114 MR. OLDMIXON. 

spond to particular excitations. These petites crovstadea^ 
to which you have appropriately given your name, appear 
to nie to have the power of rousing into action that part 
of the brain that presides over the imagination. I have 
been trying, as you know, to get a subject for Mr. Vander 
Linden's picture. 1 have read book after book in search 
of an idea ; I have studied a dozen diflEerent systems of 
religion ; I have drank champagne, sherry and egg, milk- 
punch, and, what was specially recommended, arrack, but 
all to no eflEect. Then 1 have sat with a cigar in my 
mouth for hours at a time, trying my utmost. 1 might 
as well have ducked my head in a horse-pond for all the 
good I received. But hardly had I eaten a mouthful of 
this brain-tickling compound than the conception began 
to come ; and ere I had finished one croustade it was be- 
fore me in all its completeness. I am eating another now 
to fix it indelibly on my mind, just as the photographer 
fixes the image on his sensitive plate. 

"Bravo ! Mr. Oldmixon," exclaimed Brooks, "you 
are the most appreciative of us all. No wonder your 
uncle is proud of you. If 1 had a nephew who could 
talk that way about any dish 1 might discover, I'd cher- 
ish him as the apple of my eye, whatever that may be." 

"Jack, my boy," said Mr. Oldmixon, much moved, 
" you are a gentleman and a scholar. More than that 1 
cannot say, except that 1 am grateful. We'll not ask 
you to tell us what subject the petites croustades have 
evolved out of your brain, but you must promise to give 
us a first look at your picture. Now, my friends, tell me 
what constitutes the chief constituent of this dish ?" 

One guessed one thing, and one another — no two 
agreeing, however. Brooks thought it was Strasburg 
goose liver, but admitted that it had a much more delec- 



A HORRIBLE DEED. 115 

table flavor than that famous edible. Mr. Partridge at 
first frankly confessed that he did not know what it was, 
but afterward thought there was something about it 
that reminded him of a dish he had eaten in Japan, which 
was composed mainly of a vegetable, the name of which 
he had forgotten ; and Jack gave it as his opinion that it 
consisted essentially of the concentrated essence of the 
flesh of the green turtle mingled with cocks' combs cut 
into dice. 

Then Mr. Oldmixon, after drinking another glass of 
old Madeira-rthe wine that had been served with his cu- 
linary triumph — related the history that all were anxiously 
waiting to hear. 

" I have a young medical friend," he said, ^^ who is an 
assiduous student of physiology. He performs a great 
many original experiments, and sacrifices numbers of all 
kinds of animals. He was kind enough, about a month 
ago, to invite me to witness some of his investigations, and 
I accordingly went to his laboratory for that purpose. 
In the course of his procedures he killed a dozen or more 
splendid frogs, and I saw then — what was a revelation to 
me — that that animal has a remarkably large liver. At 
once the idea occurred to me that something very won- 
derful in the gastronomic art might be made out of frogs' 
livers. He gave me all I wanted, and 1 took them home 
with me, and that very night made my first experiment 
with them. The result, although not entirely satisfac- 
tory, was nevertheless enough to show me that I had 
made a discovery that ought to immortalize me, if I met 
with the appreciation to which I felt I was fairly entitled. 
Of course I got more livers from my friend, and also from 
several small boys that 1 employed to visit the swamps 
along the north side of Long Island Sound, and to capture 



^, 



116 ME. OLDMIXOK. 

the reptile. As yon know, the only parts bronght to onr 
markets are the hind legs, which, thongh good enough 
in their way, are in nowise comparable to the liver. I 
may say, en parentkese^ that I have made arrangements 
with a frog-catcher in Canada to send me every week 
six dozen frogs' livers. Well, I made numerous essays 
to perfect the modes of cooking the delicacy I had dis- 
covered, and now I have definitely decided upon ten dif- 
ferent methods. The compound you have eaten to-night 
is one of the best. Of course it requires an artist to cook 
it — a male artist. It appears to be altogether beyond 
the power of a woman-cook. Now, I'll tell you in gen- 
eral terms how this particular dish is prepared." 

At this Brooks got out his pencil, and proceeded to 
take, notes on the back of his menu of the details given 
by Mr. Oldmixon. 

*' First," said that gentleman, ^^ you cut the livers 
into dice, then you take a sufficiency of truffles and fresh 
mushrooms — fresh, mind you, Brooks, not those horrid 
little buttons that come from France — which you also cut 
up, but into very fine pieces — not much bigger, in fact, 
than the head of a pin ; next you add a little rice-flour, 
then your seasoning — salt, pepper, butter — a few drops 
of lemon- juice, and several yolks of eggs. Now, the next 
stage is very important, and I worked at this a long time 
and experimented with many things before I got the 
right one. Nothing can take the place of the substance 
next to be added. It seems to be the only thing capable 
of bringing out, in all its ethereal delicacy, the full flavor 
of the livers ; it is pur^ of pheasant. Add enough of 
this to make the consistency of the mass about that of a 
rather thin mush. Then have your croustades ready. 
They should be made either of rice, or what is, I think, 



A HOREIBLE DEED. 117 

a little better — and to this point I have directed hours of 
anxious thought — of powdered maecaroni. These, as 
you have doubtless perceived, are of rice ; and the fact 
is owing to the obstinancy of the great man who presides 
over the kitchen of this club, and who had the imperti- 
nence to tell me that maecaroni couldn't be powdered 
fine enough ; they are to be cooked in a hain-marie, and 
when they are nearly done a little silver funnel should 
be inserted into each down to the bottom, and a tea- 
spoonful of old and very dry Madeira poured in. By 
this arrangement, which is original with me, the wine 
goes to the bottom, where it is heated, and the ethereal 
vapors, instead of being dissipated in the air, permeate 
the mass, and give it their delicious odors and flavors." 

" You are a wonderful man, Mr. Oldmixon," said Mr. 
Partridge ; "I think 1 recollect your directions suf- 
ficiently to try this dish when I get back to St. Louis. 
We are famous for our frogs there." 

*' I shall try it to-morrow if I can get the livers," said 
Brooks ; *' and I agree with Mr. Partridge in saying that 
you are a wonderful man." 

" I ought to have been educated as a cook, I suppose," 
rejoined Mr. Oldmixon, with great complacency. " I 
have more respect for a cordon tleu than I have for a 
bishop." 

As to Jack, he could not conceal his astonishment. 
His lincle was altogether a different kind of a man from 
what he had anticipated. He remembered him twelve 
years ago as irritable, fretful, prone to say disagreeable 
things, even to those he liked, ready to take offence at 
trifles or when no offence was intended, and then cruel 
both in language and acts. Now he was good-tempered, 
anxious to please, considerate — in fact, the reverse in 



118 MB. OLDMIXON. 

almost every mental characteristic. "Age," thought 
Jack, " sits well on him. Some persons become dis- 
agreeable as they get old, but Uncle Victor is certainly 
an exception." 

The dinner proceeded to the entire satisfaction of Mr. 
Oldmixon and his guests, and the conversation, under the 
influence of the associations and, perhaps, in no small 
degree to the wines, not one of which was commonplace, 
became more than usually brilliant when compared with 
the talk that is ordinarily indulged in at New York club 
dinners. The host interfered no further with the menu 
till Jt little while before the canvas-backs were reached. 
Then he called a servant to him : 

'' Go down to the kitchen," he whispered, but loud 
enough for all at the table to hear him, as he intended 
they should, " and bring me word from M. David what 
temperature exists at a point ten inches distant from the 
front of his fire. I can't trust these Frenchmen," he 
continued aloud, after the man had gone, " to cook can- 
vas-backs, so I prefer to direct the operation myself. A 
fire too hot or a half minute too long in the roasting 
spoils the ducks. The heat and the time should be ex- 
quisitely proportioned to each other, and then you have 
a bird that ought to be held up as the reward for us in 
the next world, if we do our duty in this." 

Here the servant that he had sent to the kitchen re- 
turned, and handed Mr. Oldmixon a card. 

'* Sixty-seven and five tenths,' ' he read. '' That won't 
do. It must be twice as hot. Go down and tell him. 
Hello ! Stop ! He's a Frenchman, and uses a centigrade 
thermometer. Wait a moment." 

He took a pencil from his pocket, and made a little cal- 
culation on the back of the card. 



(( 
(( 



A HORRIBLE DEED. 119 

" It would be 153J° Fahrenheit," he resumed. '' That 
will do nicely. Now, are the ducks ready ?" 
Yes, sir ; everything is in readiness." 
Very well. Now, go down and give my compli- 
ments to M. David, and request him to be kind enough 
to observe these directions : place the ducks in front of 
the fire, with the screen before them, when I ring the 
bell. Then when I ring it a second time remove the 
screen ; and when I ring it a third time replace the 
screen and bring the ducks here as fast as the dumb- 
waiter and jiPiT legs can carry them. Now, are you sure 
you imderstand ?" 

*' Oh, yes, sir ; perfectly sure." 

** Then go, and may the Lord have mercy on your 
soul if you make any mistake, for I shall have none on 
your body 1" 

As soon as the man disappeared, Mr. Oldmixon rose 
from the table and went to the end of the room, where a 
little button projected from the wall, showing the exist- 
ence of communication with an electrical bell. He waited 
till he thought the man had had time to reach the 
kitchen, and then he pressed the button. 

'' Now," he said, " the screen is being placed in front 
of the fire and the ducks on the spit behind the screen 
and ten inches from the fire." After a little time, with 
his watch in his hand, he again pressed the button. 

*' With that," he remarked, as he walked up and down 
the floor, still holding his watch in his hand, '' the 
screen is removed and the cooking begins. Exactly six- 
teen minutes and a half will be required to accomplish 
the act to perfection. A half minute more or less will 
certainly spoil the ducks." 

'^Let him alone," said Brooks, in a whisper to the 



120 3£B. OLDMIXON. 

Other gentlemen. " Ile'll walk the floor and talk, and 
you'll certainly get some valuable hints from what he 
says, I've seen him at this before. How much hum- 
bug there is in it I don't know. Perhaps all this care is 
necessary. I do know, however, that no canvas-backs 
in Kew York or anywhere else are as good as those he 
cooks." 

*' Tou are men after my own heart," continued Mr. 
Oldmixon. *'Many persons I know would have been 
iliggasted on being told that they had eaten frogs' livers. 
Bat vou were all as pleased over the information as 
thongh 1 had told you that the dish was made of pork 
and beans. Ha ! ha ! pork and beans ! Well, I should 
think so I The Lord deliver me from pork and beans ! 
Ifow, I've no prejudices ; 1 can eat anything that's 
flood ; I've eaten rattlesnake, and it's good. I've eaten 
eroWy and when properly cooked— not ' b'iled ' — it's 
20od. I've eaten shark's fins, and they're as good as the 
green fat of the turtle. Only one thing was rather dis- 
appointing, and that was wolf -steak ; I tried that once' 
in the Rocky Mountains, and it was simply damnable. It 
tasted as though it might be cloth woven of leather shoe- 
strings. But the fat of the wolf, when he has any, isn't 
a bad substitute for butter. 

**I say. Partridge," he continued, addressing that 
gentleman after looking at the watch in his hand, while 
he continued to pace the floor, '^ did you ever eat a 
peacock ?' ' 

*^ No," answered that gentleman ; '^ I can't say that 
I've been very venturesome in dietetics. You have 
given me a lesson, however, that I shall not fail to im- 
prove. " 

**Wliat about the peacock. Uncle Victor?" said 



A HOBBIBLE DEED. 121 

Brooks, winking at the others, as much as to say, ^^ Now, 
we'll draw him out." 

" What about the peacock ? Oh, nothing, except that 
it's had its day, and will probably never regain its former 
position in gastronomy. Formerly it was food for kings 
and princes. Hortensius introduced it to the Romans in 
a magnificent feast that he gave when he was made 
augur. The price of a peacock in his day was about 
ten dollars of our money, which, allowing for the depre- 
ciation of gold and silver, would make about fifty dollars 
now. Florentius says it is a noble bird, whose flesh 
should only be served to lovers and heroes ; and Donatus 
says women should not be allowed to eat its flesh, for 
that it predisposes to vanity, and they are vain enough 
already ; and Du Boise declares that only men of gentle 
blood should be permitted to have it on their tables. 
They roasted it on a spit, and it was always served with 
its feathers on. Just before cooking it, it was skinned 
very carefully, and then before sending it to table the 
skin and feathers were replaced, the crest and tail spread 
out, and in this gorgeous fashion it made its appearance 
before the guests. 

^' Sixteen minutes," he continued, going to the bell- 
knob and resting a finger gently on it. ^' In half a 
minute our ducks will be done. Excuse me a moment, 
my friends. This requires all the attention that can be 
given to it. At another time I'll tell — there !" as he 
pressed strongly on the button. '' To the very second. 
Joseph," to a servant who stood by with a decanter full 
of ruby wine, waiting for orders, *' have you taken the 
temperature ?" 

^'Yes, sir." 

''What was it?'* 
6 



122 MB. OLDMtXOlS'. 



a 



Sixty-four and a half, sir ; I thonglit that was near 
enough." 

'' I told you sixty-five, didn't I ?" 

"Yes, sir." 

" Then it was a great piece of impertinence for you to 
put your opinion against mine. I shall report your con- 
duct to the house committee. Bring me the thermom- 
eter," he continued, taking the decanter from the 
man. The instrument which was passed through a cork 
was handed to him. He inserted the cork into the de- 
canter, and slowly pushed the thermometer through the 
wine, reading off the temperatures as he did so : " Sixty- 
eight, sixty-seven, sixty-six, sixty-five, sixty-four, sixty- 
three. From sixty-eight to sixty-three. Now, don't you 
see," addressing the man, " that this wine ranges from 
sixty-eight at the top to sixty-three at the bottom ? Now, 
I turn the decanter upside down two or three times, and 
now, as you see, the temperature is a uniform sixty-five. 
Keep it so. Ah, here are our ducks !" as another man 
entered with four splendid-looking birds on a dish. 
"Now, my friends, I wouldn't exchange the next half 
hour of my life for the same length of time in the exist- 
ence of any man on earth." 

He seated himself at the table, and the ducks being 
passed round, each gentleman took a whole one and 
proceeded to cut off the breast on each side with a knife 
as sharp as a razor. Then the carcasses were removed, 
and in silence the delicious morsels were eaten. Only 
once was a word spoken, and that was when Mr. Par- 
tridge asked a servant for some currant jelly. Mr. Old- 
mixon raised his eyes for a moment, but was too polite to 
make any remark. From that time on, however, his 
spirits seemed to have declined. He made no more 



A HOEEIBLE DEED. 128 

speeches, and answered only in monosyllables. His coun- 
tenance wore a dejected air that was totally at variance 
with the jovial expression it had born§ during the early 
part of the dinner. Brooks understood the matter, but 
Jack was unable to account for a change so radical as to 
be almost alarming. He was apprehensive that some- 
thing serious — an apoplectic attack, for instance — might 
be about to occur. While he was trying to find a solu- 
tion of the circumstance, Mr. Oldmixon took a little vial 
from his pocket, and removing the cork held the open 
mouth to his nose. 

'' A little faint," he said, '^ that is all. I suppose it's 
the heat. The room is hot, isn't it ?" 

'/ Yes," answered Jack ; *^ it is warmer than it need 
be. Shall I open the window, uncle V ' rising as he 
spoke. 

" Ko, no ; it's over now. My heart is a little weak, 
so I'm told, and occasionally I have to take a sniflE of 
nitrite of amyl. It acts at once like a charm." 

But although Mr. Oldmixon declared that he was all 
right, it was evident that there was going to be no more 
hilarity that night. The rest of the dinner was eaten 
almost in silence ; and at its close, Mr. Partridge, looking 
at his watch, pleaded another engagement ; and after a 
few polite speeches on both sides took his departure. 
No sooner had the door closed upon him than Mr. Old- 
mixon broke forth : 

" This is the last time that fellow dines with me. 
Great heavens ! to think that I should have been so im- 
posed upon. 1 took him for a man of gentlemanly in- 
stincts, of fine perceptions, of delicate taste, and I find 
him to be a boorish, uncouth cad, that it is contamination 
to have at my table. Brooks, Jack — I ask pardon of 



124 MR. OLDMIXOIS^. 

both of you for asking you to meet a low-strung, coarse- 
minded lout. " 

Brooks smiled knowingly, but Jack was astonished at 
his uncle's vehement abuse of a man for whom all 
through the early part of the dinner he had shown great 
respect. 

" What did he do ?" he at least managed to inquire, 
though he was somewhat apprehensive that in the at- 
tempt to answer his uncle might again experience the 
inconvenience of having a weak heart. " He seemed to 
me to be a gentleman," 

Mr. Oldmixon was overcome, and was obliged again to 
have recourse to his vial. 

" What did he do ?" he shrieked rather than spoke, 
after he had refreshed himself with a couple of inhala- 
tions. *' Didn't you hear him ask for currant jelly ? 
Didn't you see him spread it over the noble flesh on his 
plate, as though he were daubing a piece of bread with 
molasses ? Didn't you see him treat the glorious bird as 
though it were a muscovy ? O Jack, Jack, that you of 
all men should ask me what he did !" And Mr. Old- 
mixon buried his face in his hands and trembled as 
though he were seized with a tit of the ague. 

^^1 didn't observe him," said Jack, apologetically. 
^' 1 was so busy with the contemplation and the disposi- 
tion of what 1 had on my own plate that I neither heard 
nor saw Mr. Partridge. But come, uncle ; we three can 
afford to forgive him. Evidently he was unconscious of 
his crime." 

^^ Yes, that's the worst of it. If he had done it 
through spite or bravado, or because the duck was badly 
cooked, I could forgive him ; but to do such a thing as 
that through ignorance or because he liked it puts a wall 



A HORRIBLE DEED. 125 

between him and me that can never come down. Hence- 
forth our paths through life are as divergent as north 
and south. The man that puts currant jelly on a canvas- 
back can never be the associate, much less the friend, of 
Victor Constantino Oldmixon. 1 have seen the crime 
committed before, and it has always made me shudder ; 
but this is the first time, and it shall be the last, that 
such an outrage has occurred at my table." 

Nothing that either Brooks or Jack could say had the 
least effect in pacifying Mr. Oldmixon. *^It's worse 
than that other thing," he whispered to Jack as they 
stood on the porch of the LucuUus Club House while his 
coupe was driving up. I thought nothing could touch me 
like that ; but this has sounded a lower depth. Good- 
night. 1 intended to have taken you home with me and 
to have talked over some matters of great importance, 
but this has unfitted me for all mental exertion. I'll 
call for you to-morrow or next day, and bring you down 
to my house. If I don't, come and see me ; and in the 
mean time, my boy, think whether it wouldn't be pleas- 
ant for you to live with me. I'll give you a whole floor 
to yourself, and there's a splendid room that will do for 
your studio. I'm getting old, Jack. Such a thing as 
tliis to-night tells on me, and I may go now any day. 
Good-night again," as Jack, with a few consolatory 
words, helped him into his carriage. " I'll see you to- 
morrow, or next day at farthest." 

Jack stood on the steps for a moment, thinking of the 
singular behavior of his uncle. Many circumstances in 
his conduct, as he had observed it during the twelve 
hours that had elapsed since the reconciliation, appeared 
to him to be incompatible with the existence of a sound 
state of mind. The statement of his love affairs, and es- 



126 MR. OLDMIXON. 

peciallj of the last one ; the unreasonable prejudice that 
had been suddenly formed against Hogarth, to the entire 
disregard of acts on the part of the young man that 
would, at any time during the last twelve years, have 
justified renunciation by his uncle ; the intense affection 
that had sprung up within a few hours for him, Jack ; 
the excessive interest he had shown in the new dish he 
had compounded out of frogs' livers ; the excessive degree 
of irritation he had shown at Mr. Partridge's act of put- 
ting currant jelly on the canvas-back ; and last, but cer- 
tainly not least, the existence of a peculiar excitability 
that Jack could not describe to himself, but which he 
clearly saw was unnatural, and which had marked his 
uncle's manner during the dinner, until with Mr. Part- 
ridge's lapsus it had disappeared, to be succeeded by an 
equally abnormal mental inertia — all these facts had 
made a deep impression upon him, and had kept him 
through the dinner wondering whether or not his uncle 
was a lunatic. Several times, just as he had arrived at 
the conclusion that he certainly was of unsound mind, he 
would say something that indicated the existence of a 
force of intellect and a degree of mental equanimity 
such as Jack could not conceive could be possessed by an 
insane person. Of course Jack had never given any 
time to the study of insanity. All he knew of mental 
aberration he had got from reading accounts of murders 
and other acts of violence, and of will-trials in the news- 
papers, and from a couple of visits he had paid to a lunatic 
asylum with a young medical friend when he was study- 
ing types for a picture of Ophelia he was painting. He 
had observed that at one time his uncle had looked at 
Mr. Partridge with such a diabolical expression on his face 
that Jack had, for a moment, feared that he intended to 



A HORRIBLE DEED. 127 

throttle the unfortunate gentleman. He had seen just 
such a look on the countenance of a lunatic, who the 
next day had killed his keeper by striking him over the 
head with a wash-tub. Still, he had noticed that Mr. 
Brooks, who had known Mr. Oldmixon very intimately 
for many years, did not appear to be astonished at any- 
thing that had occurred. Perhaps, after all, it was only 
an eccentric manner, showing that his uncle, instead of 
diflEering a little from other people, differed a great deal. 
And with this comforting doubt Jack took a cab that 
was standing in front of the club house, and was driven 
to the Vandyke, 



CHAPTER IX. 

A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 

At tlie two windows of a room in an old and straggling 
hotol in the ancient city of Annapolis sat Mr. and Mrs. 
Hogarth Oldmixon. Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon was seated 
at one window and Mrs. Hogarth Oldmixon at the other, 
and each was looking eagerly into the deserted street, as 
though trying to discover something that might relieve 
the distressing monotony of the situation. There did 
not appear to be, if this was their object, much chance of 
a successful result, for the rain was pouring down in tor- 
rents, and not a creature of any kind was visible save the 
old negro man at the comer who sold crabs, and who 
gallantly continued to fly his flag, regardless of the un- 
favorable state of the atmosphere. Every now and then 
a crab would crawl over the edge of the basket in which 
it, with its companions in captivity, was confined, and 
endeavor to make its way to the torrent of water that 
flowed down the gutter ; but the old man was always too 
quick for it, and with a word and a blow tossed it into 
the receptacle whence it had come. Mr. and Mrs. 
Hogarth Oldmixon had watched the old man for consid- 
erably over an hour, and had extracted from his actions 
all the amusement that it was possible to get. At first 
they had laughed inordinately at the antics of the vener- 
able negro, most of whose joints appeared to be stiflE with 
rheumatism ; but eventually, as nearly always happens in 



A DISAPPOESTTED COUPLE. 129 

such cases, the most eccentric contortions that he made 
failed to excite their risible faculties. All mental im- 
pressions and all sensations, however^ pleasant they may 
be at first, become wearisome or painful by their con- 
tinuance or frequent repetition. The perfection of physi- 
cal comfort is the absence of any feeling in any pail; of 
the body ; and, strange as it may seem, the persistence of 
a sensorial impression leads to the abolition of sensibility 
for all other impressions that can be made on the organ 
receiving them. If a person could be caused to restrict 
his vision to the sight of one single* object, he would be- 
come blind so far as all other objects are concerned ; the 
hearing of one unvarying sound would cause deafness to 
all other sounds ; a single sapid substance held in the 
mouth destroys the perception of taste for other sub- 
stances ; and the mind running constantly on one subject 
becomes incapable of appreciating others. 

But before this stage is reached a state of the most in- 
tense weariness is experienced. The period required, 
however, to bring about this condition varies in diflferent 
persons. In the cases of Mr. and Mrs. Hogarth Old- 
mi xon an hour had been sufficient. I have known in- 
stances in which, through some peculiar unimpressibility 
of the brain, the same excitation produced pleasure after 
hundreds of repetitions. Thus at the theatre one even- 
ing 1 witnessed the three hundred and seventy-eighth 
representation of the grand spectacular piece entitled the 
" Ice Demon of the Frozen Caves." It was full of stupid 
jokes, and I observed that no one among the audience 
laughed so long or so loud over each attempted witticism 
or ludicrous situation as did a member of the orchestra 
who played the violoncello. So extraordinary apparently 

was the fact, that during an entr^act I sought out the 
6* 



130 MR. OLDMIXON. 

leader of the band. 1 found liim imbibing lager beer in 
the cellar, and nothing loath to drink a couple of glasses 
with me. 

" Who is the man," I asked, '' that plays the violon- 
cello ?" 

" Oh, dot's Mr. Schunemann." 

" A new member of your splendid orchestra ?" I said, 
insidiously and interrogatively. 

" Gott in Himmel, no ! I dinks 1 have Schunemann 
seven year." 

" And does he play every night ?" 

** I should dink so, and two matinees extra." 

" Then he has played in the orchestra during the 
three hundred and seventy-eight times that the ^Ice 
Demon of the Frozen Caves ' has been performed ?" 

"Zurely. If he didn't, don't you thought I would 
knew it ?" 

" I saw him laughing at the fun of the piece," I said, 
humbly. 

" Laugh I I should dink so I I laugh at him myself 
two hundred times. Den 1 laugh no more. But Schu- 
nemann is joost de most — schwermuthig — saddest man 
dot lives in New York, and he never lauglis only when 
he sees dot performance, and den he lauglis all de while." 

It was the dreariest of dreary spectacles to me after I 
had seen it once, and yet these men could laugh over it 
hundreds of times I 

But Mr. and Mrs. Hogarth Oldmixon were differently 
constituted. For them — especially for Mr. Hogarth Old- 
mixon — variety was the spice of life, and just at this 
time their life was absolutely free from spice. What 
was to be done ? Mr. Hogarth had never cultivated the 
little conversational power that he once had, but had de- 



A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 131 

veloped a kind that was scarcely adapted to the society 
to which he was now condemned ; and Mrs. Hogarth, 
who could talk enough when the conditions were favor- 
able, found it impossible to keep up a conversation with 
a man who only answered, when he answered at all, with 
a '' yes" or a '' no." 

They had been married five days, and this was their 
wedding-journey. The prospect for a cheerful and a 
happy married life was certainly not bright, and Mrs. 
Hogarth felt her heart sink within her as she thought of 
what was probably before her in the long future. She 
was not a particularly intelligent woman. She had man- 
aged thus far to get through life without any special 
mental exertion. To be sure, she had thought, when 
occasion had seemed to require her to think ; but the 
effort to concentrate her attention upon any subjects but 
dress and the pleasures of society had been so unpleas- 
ant, that for several years past she had allowed her 
mother to do for her such thinking as was absolutely 
necessary should bo done by some one in her behalf. 
When, therefore, Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon, after having 
seen her at the opera, and being introduced to her under 
the impression that she was a rich plum worthy of his 
gathering, had asked her to be his wife, she had answered 
that she had no objections if mamma approved ; that she 
had not considered the matter herself, and did not see 
that it would do any good for her to bother over it ; that 
mamma knew what was best for her, and that — ^yes, he 
might kiss her if he cared to, but that for her part she 
thought such things were very vulgar ; and much else to 
the same effect. 

Then Mr. Hogarth had sought an interview with Mrs. 
White, and in the best language at his command had 



iita MIL OhDMlXOy. 

oimtual h'm lieart Up that lady regnant in the White 

** Wo liaro neen very little of yon, Mr. Oldmixon," she 
liA/l ropliody urnoothing the front of her dress with her 
fAt ImtiUf and Mottling herself into her chair, as though 
f(otting really for a long conversation. ^^ Our sets are dif- 
{(srmt, Hoitiiity in New York is so large, that it is im- 
poMllilo to know everybody worth knowing. Ton are 
tho Hon of Mr. Victor Oldmixon, I believe ?" 

'' No, madam, I am his nephew." 

*' I thought you were his son. Mr. Condor, who 
iMHUnHW to know everything, certainly told me that you 
woru hiM Hon." 

'* I am only his nephew." 

*M)f ooumo I am obliged to consider the future of 
my duar child. She is so inexperienced and so far re- 
mo vod fi*om all moroonary motives that she would never 
think of Huoh a thing herself. She would give her heart, 
and thou nhu would think nothing more was required. 
Hut wo mothora, Mr. Oldmixon, must look farther. I 
thought you wore Mr. Oldmixon's son, and that you 
wouldi tl^oroforo^ l)0 tlio heir to his estate, wliich, thoiigh 
I undorHtaml it is not very large as these things are con- 
Hidortn) in our day, is ample enough for all practical pur- 
|HUH^ As you are not his son, I am obliged, in the in- 
t^iVHta of my SNVoot duld, to ask you what are your pres* 
Mit uuvMM of suppiuti and what are your prospects for 
Uw futuro r 

lU^itarth wa» not a diplomati$t» nor skiUed in didactic 
f^HH\ ^iH>oially when his antagcoiist was a woman. He 
kn^w xx^rY lit iW of r^^fined and educailed women, though 
hU a\\)uaiutiaK^ with certain r^pretsentativcs of a lar^ 
oW^ vxf t)H> ;$^:k. \r;» not rei$trict^ to narrow limitsw He 



I 



A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 133 

had seen Camilla Wliite at the opera, and he had fallen 
in love with her at first sight, for reasons that must have 
been fully as inexplicable to himself as they were to 
others. To be sure, her father was supposed to have 
money ; but though this fact may have had some influ- 
ence in causing him to continue his addresses, it could 
have had none in the origination of his passion. She 
was not pretty, she was not distinguished-looking, she 
was not, as a rule, even well dressed, though doubtless 
her clothing was expensive ; and yet two Oldmixons — 
uncle and nephew — had fallen violently in love with her, 
and she had been the innocent cause of their estrange- 
ment. 

Now, Hogarth never told the truth when a lie would 
better or even equally serve his purpose. His uncle 
made liim an allowance of three thousand dollars a year, 
and had told him that he might consider himself his heir. 
Over and over again he had said to him : " Hogarth, my 
boy, all that I have in the world will be yours when I 
die. That milksop Jack, who 1 don't believe has a 
drop of Oldmixon blood in his veins, shall never have 
a cent of my money ;'' and Hogarth had duly said, 
" Thank you. Uncle Victor," without appearing to notice 
the insult to his mother, which, as the reader knows, was 
the same that Jack had resented so energetically while 
only a boy. 

He might, therefore, with perfect truth have declared 
that, although only a nephew, he was Mr. Oldmixon's 
sole heir ; but this of itself would not altogether have an- 
swered his purpose ; so instead of adding, as was the fact, 
that his uncle allowed him three thousand a year, he told 
Mrs. White, apprehensive doubtless .that she would deem 
this sum insufficient to maintain her daughter in the 



134 MR. OLDMIXON. 

condition to which she was accustomed, that his allow- 
ance was ten thousand, and that doubtless this would 
be increased on his marriage. 

"My uncle is seventy- five years of age," he said. 
" He does not spend more than five or six thousand a 
year, for he lives in one of his own houses, and takes his 
meals at his club. His income is certainly at least thirty 
thousand a year, and 1 am confident that when I marry 
he will make mine fifteen thousand." 

All this looked very promising to Mrs. White. She 
saw already her da,ughter well settled in life as the wife 
of a man of ample income and of great expectations. 

" I will be equally frank with you, Mr. Oldmixon," 
she said, relaxing greatly in the frigidity of manner that 
had characterized the early part of the interview. " Mr. 
White is what is generally called ' rich,' but he has eleven 
children, and when niy ' thirds ' come out of his estates 
there will not be over two hundred and fifty thousand 
for each. He has authorized me to say that the allow- 
ance of three thousand dollars that he now gives Camilla 
will be continued after her marriage, but that she will 
get nothing more till his death. To be sure, he is seventy- 
two, but he is hale and hearty for his age." 

This information had a somewhat depressing infiuence 
on Mr. Hogarth ; but he reflected that with an uncle, 
whose heir he was, seventy-five years old and a father- 
in-law seventy-two, it could not be very long before one 
or the other or both would ^ shuflie off this mortal coil,' 
and leave him in comparative affluence. His own three 
thousand and Camilla's like amount would do very well 
for the present, and besides he was really confident that 
his uncle would at least double his allowance, so he made 
a magnanimous answer to the effect that it was Camilla, 



A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 135 

not money, that he wanted, and Mrs, White had there- 
upon graciously given her consent, remarking as she did 
so that this at least was an instance of that perfect disin- 
terestedness as regarded pecuniary matters that ought to 
attend in all aflEairs of the heart, ^' except, Mr. Old- 
mixon," she added, '' that every mother is bound to see 
that her daughter shall not want for the comforts of 
life." So the matter was settled, and Camilla White in 
due time became the wife of Hogarth Oldmixon. 

Immediately before his marriage he had written a 
letter to his uncle, informing him that he was going to 
Washington and Annapolis on his wedding tour, that he 
expected to be absent about ten days, and that on his 
return he should be very happy to present Mrs. Hogarth 
Oldmixon to her respected relative. 

" She seems almost to know you," he added. " She 
has seen you so often from her windows, which are just 
opposite yours, that she has formed quite an affection for 
you, and she wonders why, since our engagement, you 
have not called on her." 

This letter lay on Mr. Oldmixon's desk for several 
hours unopened, as was often the case with the commu- 
nications of his dutiful nephew, and when read, as it was 
the next day, had not added to Mr. Oldmixon's peace of 
mind. On the contrary, it had made him distinctly un- 
comfortable. 

" I knew she loved me," he said, mournfully, '* and 
now that scoundrel has carried her off. Bitterly shall he 
rue his cruelty before I've done with him." 

Mr. Hogarth looked up and down the street, and then 
at the sky for the twentieth time at least. 

" 1 believe it's going to rain all day," he said, at last. 
"If it would only stop now we might go and see the 



136 MB. OLDMIXON. 

Naval Academy. That's what we came here for, was it 
not ?" 

" Indeed, I don't know," answered his wife, with her 
accostomed indifference. " I left it all to you. I sup- 
posed there was some reason for your wanting to come 
here." 

" So there was a reason, but I've been disappointed. 
I expected to meet a friend here, and now I find I've 
got to stay here three days before she comes." 

" A lady I" exclaimed Camilla, roused into something 
like interest by her husband's speech. 

'^ Yes, a lady," he answered, with something like a 
sneering tone in his voice. " Oh, you needn't be jeal- 
ous," he continued, with a laugh. " She's sixty years 
old, and she owes me two thousand dollars. She's 
going to pay it, and that's why I want to see her. It's 
money I won from her son at a little game of draw 
poker a year ago. Now, Mrs. Oldmixon, are you sat- 
isfied ?" 

'' I wasn't dissatisfied. You can have as many friends 
as you like, men or women." 

" Well, you a/re a cool one, I must say," he observed, 
after looking at her somewhat contemptuously for a 
moment. " You mean to say you don't care how many 
lady friends I have ?" 

" Whatever suits you will suit me. I suppose we'll 
get tired of each other after a while, as mairied people 
generally do." 

" Well, for my part," said Hogarth, not to be out- 
done in nonchalance, "I'm tired already." 

Mr. Hogarth was a pretty bad fellow, though not 
quite so desperately wicked as his uncle had made him 
out to be in his conversation with Barbara Henschel. 



A DISAPPODTTED COUPLE. 137 

He was a drunkard, a gambler, a liar, a consorter with 
vile people of both sexes, and he had probably, without 
having formed any distinct intention of doing such a 
thing, somewhat hastened his mother's death. Bat he 
had not stolen money from Mr. Oldmixon, as that gentle- 
man had alleged, nor had he perpetrated any other crime 
that would render him amenable to the law. There are 
many offences which, though they do not consign the 
perpetrator to the penitentiary, place him outside the 
pale of respectable society ; and of these Hogarth Old- 
mixon had committed more than the share that ordinarily 
falls to the lot of the social outcast. Indeed, the total 
would, had it been known, have been suflBciently appall- 
ing to any one with a spark of decency in his composi- 
tion. As it was, no one person knew the extent of 
Hogarth Oldmixon 's wickedness so well as he knew it 
himself, and hence his reputation was better than he 
deserved. If all those that were acquainted with his 
conduct could have come together and have compared 
notes, each one of them would have been astonished at 
the revelations of the others. As the knowing ones, 
however, were to a greater or less extent participators in 
his lapses against the laws of decency and morality, it 
was not very likely that he incurred any great risk of 
exposure. He was very reticent even with his intimate 
companions in regard to conduct of his with which they 
were not particularly concerned, and he had the reputa- 
tion of being a remarkably shrewd, sharp, self-reliant, 
secretive, and, to a certain extent, unscrupulous man. 
The limit to his scrupulousness was his uncle. Whether 
he really was attached to the old gentleman or not was 
known to no one but himself. He always, so far as ex- 
ternals went, treated him with respect, but this was with 



138 MR. OLDMIXOK^. 

sucli a man much more likely to be based on policy than 
on affection. He had several times, however, been 
strongly tempted by himself and others to perpetrate 
some act of fraud on his uncle, but he had never yet 
been able to reconcile conduct of the kind with his con- 
science. 

He was three years younger than Jack, and, as the 
reader already knows, had taken sides with his uncle in 
the quarrel into which his brother had been forced. 
Since the rupture he had had nothing to do with him, 
though once or twice, when his funds had been low, and 
he had heard how well Jack was getting on in the world, 
he had thought of applying to him for pecuniary assist- 
ance. Reflection, however, had tended to convince him 
both of the impropriety and the uselessness of such an 
appeal. 

It was, perhaps, all things considered, fortunate that 
his wife was not possessed of any great degree of refined 
sensibility or was deeply attached to him. She there- 
fore smiled when he remarked that he was already on 
the stool of repentance, but made no other answer, doubt- 
less for the reason that it was entirely useless for her to 
express a concurrence that it was quite obvious she felt. 

''I say, Milly," he remarked, after a few minutes' 
silence, during which he had, what was an unusual thing 
for him, read a few pages in a recently published novel, 
'' I shouldn't be surprised if we've made a big mis- 
take. 1 don't see though how matters are going to be 
helped. We're tied together for life, 1 suppose, and 
we' ve got to make the best of a bad bargain. The hero 
in this book, when he found out that he had married the 
wrong woman, blew his brains out ; but I'm not fool 
enough to do that, " 



A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 139 

^' 1 might go home, and then yon could get a divorce 
on the ground of desertion." 

^' That's so ! Ton seem to have been thinking the 
matter over. By George ! To think of a girl of your 
age and brought up as strictly as you've been brought 
up, knowing so much about divorce I" 

A knock at the door interrupted Mrs. Oldmixon in 
any reply she might have been about to make, and a ser- 
vant entering with a letter still further indisposed her to 
give any answer. She always got rid of discussions when 
there was the least show of an excuse for so doing. 
There was ample reason, as she soon discovered, for de- 
ferring the further discussion of the subject to a time 
sufficiently remote for her to allow of her giving it ample 
consideration. 

^' A letter from Kidley," said Mr. Hogarth, reading 
the name printed in one comer of the envelope, '^ and 
it's forwarded from Washington. I don't see what 
reason he has for writing to me, unless it's to tell me 
that the old gentleman has seen the propriety of increas- 
ing my allowance without waiting for the suggestion to 
come from his dutiful nephew." 

He tore open the envelope and read the letter. It was 
short, and, to judge by the expression of his face, the 
contents were not of a character to cause pleasure, and 
this impression was heightened by the remarks that fell 
from his lips as he finished the perusal, and sat ap- 
parently for the moment half stupefied with astonishment 
and anger. 

" Well," he said, when he had in a measure recovered 
from the immediate effects that the information had pro- 
duced. ** This is the very devil I I donH understand it 
at all. Something's gone wrong that's certain." 



140 MR. OLDMIXON. 

Mrs. Hogarth raised her eyes at these words, and 
looked at her husband as though she had some half- 
formed expectation that he would enlighten her ; but 
she did not intimate by words that she entertained such 
an idea. 

" If you knew what was in this letter, Mrs. Old- 
mixon," continued her husband, rising as he spoke, and 
walking up and down the floor with the letter still in his 
hand, '^ you wouldn't take the matter so devilish quietly, 
for you'd discover another cause for disappointment in 
me. You'd find out that you'd married a beggar." 

At this Mrs. Oldmixon roused herself sufficiently to 
ask what was the matter. 

'^ Just about the worst thing that could happen. lis- 
ten to this, and if you've got a heart 1 rather think 
the strings will be stretched a little when you get the 
news through your head : 

'' Deab Sm : I am instructed by Mr. Victor Oldmixon 
to notify you, that the allowance of three thousand dol- 
lars that he has hitherto made you will cease with the 
current month. 

" I am also instructed to say that any expectations you 
may have entertained relative to being Mr. Oldmixon' s 
heir may as well be abandoned, as he has formed views 
in regard to the disposition of his property into which 
you do not enter. 

"And I am further desired by Mr. Oldmixon to in- 
form you that the relation of uncle and nephew between 
him and you exists now, and will exist in the future, only 
in name, and that it will be quite useless for you to seek 
personally, or by letter, or by other means for a revoca- 
tion of his action in any of the points referred to in this 



A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 141 

letter. Henceforth you and he are strangers to each 
other. 

*' Your obedient servant, 

'^Theobald Ridley." 



iC 



*' IM give all 1 am worth," he continued, excitedly, 

to know what it all means. He must be crazy. I've 
done nothing to put him into such a passion with me, 
for he is furiously angry, just as he was with Jack a 
dozen or more years ago. By G — d I I believe h^s ^t 
the bottom of it all. He's got hold of the old fool and 
has cut me out." 

Another knock at the door was followed by the 
entrance of the servant with a second letter which he 
apologized for having overlooked, though it had come 
in the same mail as the first. 

" Ah !'* exclaimed Mr. Hogarth, opening it after the 
man had left the room, " this is from Masters. Now I 
shall know the ins and outs of the business. He's Kid- 
ley's clerk you know, and a friend of mine. He'd better 
be. I could — Well, never mind what I could do. 
Let's see what he has to say : 

^^ Mt peae Ms. Hogarth : Mr. Victor Oldmixon was 
down a couple of days ago, and from some cause or other, 
the i^ature of which I could not ascertain, is very indig- 
nant a^inst you. He has directed that your allowance 
be stopped, and has made a new will, giving the whole 
of his estate to your brother John, on condition that he 
jnarrfes somebody whose name was left blank in the draft 
of the will for him to fill up, Mr. Kidley knows who, 
but, of course, it's no use trying to get it out of him. If 
your brother does not marry this woman within a year 



143 MR. OLDMIXON. 

after your uncle's decease, the whole estate goes to her. 
The idea appears to be to force Mr. John into marrying 
her. For what reason you may be able to tell — I can't even 
guess. The whole scheme appears to me to look very 
much as though it was the offspring of an insane mind, 
and if such is the case, you would probably, from your 
intimate acquaintance with Mr. Victor, be able to furnish 
proof that would satisfy the surrogate or a jury. He 
can't live much longer, and, although you can't attack 
the will till it is offered for probate, you might very 
readily begin now to gather evidence and to talk the mat- 
ter up. If you can manage to give him a reputation for 
insanity before his death, you will have done a great 
deal. 

'' I take this occasion to inform you that I am about 
setting up for myself, and that I shall make a specialty 
of practising in the surrogate's court. It will give me 
great pleasure to look after your interests in this or in 
any other connection. 

'^ Very respectfully, 

'* Your obedient servant, 

"Jeremiah Masters." 

Mrs. Oldmixon had listened with all the attention of 
which she was capable to the reading of these letters. 
The effect upon her was not, on the whole, inspiriting, 
though a hot — hot for her — ^feeling of anger was engen- 
dered within her breast. She was quick enough to per- 
ceive that the means for a comfortable support had been 
suddenly taken away, and that they would have in future 
to depend upon the three thousand dollars allowed her 
by her father. She saw, also, that the hopes of wealtli 
that had been developed in her by a consideration of the 



A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 143 

relation of heir that her husband had borne to his ancle, 
were also dashed to the ground. All this was bad 
enough, but it was as nothing compared to the indigna- 
tion she felt against him for the fraud that his reading 
of Mr. Ridley's letter showed he had practised upon her 
and her mother. It was not often that she got angry, 
for anger was not only troublesome in itself, but was 
likely to lead to complications that were themselves 
sources of discomfort, and the chief object that Camilla 
Oldmixon n^e White had in continuing to exist was her 
own personal comfort, to the exclusion, if necessary, of the 
personal comfort of every other person in the world. 
Now, her comfort had been ruthlessly interfered with. 
This man had come to her mother with a lie. He had 
told her that his allowance was ten thousand a year, and 
this letter that had just been read showed that it had 
never been over three thousand. He had, therefore, 
cheated her out of seven thousand a year — ten thousand 
in fact, for now he had nothing, and all his magnificent 
prospects had gone, doubtless through some act of his 
own, that he was now ashamed or afraid to confess. 

She had kept silent during the reading of the letters, 
but her anger was accumulating in force, as fact after 
fact was forced upon her attention. She would have 
broken out when Hogarth had finished with the first let- 
ter, but the entrance of the servant with another had had 
the eflEect of calming her for the time being. For, she 
argued, it might be that this second communication was 
a reversal of the first, and, in that case, rage would have 
been an exertion that she might have spared herself. 
When, however, she learned that instead of being a con- 
tradiction of the other letter, it was a full and detailed 
confirmation, she could restrain herself no longer. 



144 ME. OLDMIXON. 

" You have committed a fraud," she exclaimed. 
" Tou told my mother that your allowance was ten 
thousand a year. I say nothing of what you declared 
relative to your expectations. Tou may honestly have 
had them, but this other was a deception in regard to a 
matter of fact al&out which there could have been no 
mistake. You told a lie, a deliberate, wilful lie, for the 
purpose of entrapping me into a marriage with you. If 
I had not believed what you said, I should have let you 
rot in the street before I'd have married you.'' With 
which words Mrs. Oldmixon left the window and sat 
down in a rocking-chair near the centre of the room, 
and in her excitement rocked herself vigorously. 

Mr. Hogarth was astonished. This exhibition of rage 
on the part of his wife was a revelation of possibilities 
of character that he had not hitherto supposed her to 
possess. She had taken everything thus far with such a 
degree of indiflEerence, had scarcely ever replied other- 
wise than by an expressionless smile to his most cutting 
observations, and had evinced so little interest in him or 
his fortunes, or, for the matter of that, in their combined 
fortunes, that he had supposed her to be one of those 
women that take what comes to them, whether good or 
bad, with equal equanimity. This outburst was, there- 
fore, something for which he was altogether unprepared, 
and for a moment he was in doubt what kind of a 
reply to make. The fact that he had deceived her and 
her mother never entered as a disturbing factor into his 
reflections on the subject. He had deceived so many 
persons in ways much worse than that that he had adopted 
on this occasion, that it failed altogether to touch his con- 
science. That he had said'* ten" when he ought to 
have said ''three" was, in his estimation, a small mat- 



A DISAPPOINTED COUPLE. 145 

ter. He certainly did not intend to descend to the 
humiliation of asking her forgiveness. On the contrary, 
after a very little thought, he resolved that he would 
brave it out, and his wife might do what she pleased. 
He did not see what she could do. She could use her 
tongue on him, it was true, but he could, he rather 
thought, beat her at that game, skilful and reckless as 
she might be in its exercise. And then he would always 
have the alternative of getting out of her presence if the 
fire became too hot. He had subdued women before in 
his day — women much more formidable than this one, 
he thought, and he had invariably found that it was best 
in all contests with them not to fire blank cartridges, but 
to open ruthlessly at point-blank range with all the artil- 
lery he could bring to war. Yes, he would give her a 
lesson at once. He would show her just what kind of a 
man she had to deal with, and he fiattered himseK that 
she would be as much astonished at the knowledge she 
would obtain as he had been Vith the demonstration she 
had given him. It would be an immense saving of 
trouble, and he thought would be far more eflScacious in 
the long run. One crushing victory would be better 
than even a long and uninterrupted series of small ones. 
Besides, he was in the humor for crushing somebody, 
and that somebody might as well be a woman, though 

the woman was his wife. He was not afraid of women. 
7 



CHAPTEE X. 

BARBARA WOBKB AND THINKS. 

Mb. Oldmixon and his remarkable story were in Bar- 
bara's thoughts for several days after his visit. Time and 
again the idea occurred to her that he was insane, and that 
the whole account that he had given of his loves and his 
nephews was a figment of his imagination. Her father 
encouraged her in this opinion. The old man was of a 
practical turn of mindjand frequently saw mental derange- 
ment in the conduct of people that was not in accordance 
with his conceptions of healthy mental action. " There 
are more lunatics out of the asylums than in them," he 
was accustomed to say when some particularly erratic per- 
formance was brought to his knowledge. 

'' Half the world's insane, in my opinion. You've only 
to read the newspapers to discover that fact. Indeed, you 
needn't even do that. Only go into the business of tax- 
idermy and you'll find it out quickly enough. Why, 
half the people that I do work for are as mad as March 
hares. I don't suppose, however, that we've got a mo- 
nopoly of the cranks ;" and then he would laugh heartily, 
doubtless as much from the consciousness that he^ at any 
rate, was in his soimd mind, as from the conviction that 
half the rest of mankind was not. 

'' But as to this Mr. Oldmixon, my dear," he said to 
Barbara, ''whether he's crazy or not need not concern 
us. We're not likely to see him again. So, we'd better 



BARBARA WORKS AND THINKS. 147 

go our own way and let him go his, whether it's a crazy 
one or not." 

^' I'm sure he's not crazy, father," answered Barbara. 
" He may be different from other men in many things, but 
I don't think you should find fault with him for that, for 
you've often said that the tendency of civilization was to 
destroy the individual diflEerences that gave interest to life 
up to a hundred years or so ago. " 

*' Yes, yes. I said that, and I say it now. Machinery 
and steam and electricity and travel, and, above all, print- 
ing — ^newspapers and books — are gradually reducing man- 
kind to a state of uniformity. Look at the mere matter 
of dress ! "Why, the last time 1 was in Denmark, the men 
and women of my native village looked as though they 
had just come from a New England town. All through 
Europe you see the same thing. It's getting to be the 
same with their thoughts too. Take out politics, and all 
the civilized nations think alike." 

''And then when a man comes who is different from 
the others and thinks for himself, you call him a lunatic. " 

'' I'm afraid you're right, my girl." 

" Well, if that's the sort of a lunatic Mr.Oldmixon is, 
I've no objection to your calling him one." 

'' Let him drop, my dear," persisted the old man, from 
some vague idea of jealousy, which was very apt to arise 
in his breast when Barbara evinced any particular interest 
in any one — man or woman. " If he ever comes in our 
way again it will be time enough to talk about him. 
"Now tell me about this silver fox," going, as he spoke, to 
the glass case in which the partially mounted skin lay. 
*' The gentleman that brought it here was very partic- 
ular in his directions about expression. As you know, 
it is the most difficult of all animals to approach, or to 



148 MR. OLDMIXON. 

trap, or to catch in any other way, and I want you, my 
dear, to bring all your knowledge and skill to bear on the 
matter of indicating the shrewdness of the animal. It 
is all ready now for your work. I'll just moisten it a 
little, and then you can take it in hand." 

Barbara looked at the animal reflectively for several 
minutes, apparently considering how she could best bring 
out in her work the characteristic qualities of the silver 
fox. 

u ^e've only mounted ten silver foxes since you began 
the business," she said, after looking over a large book 
that she took from a shelf near by, " and seven of these 
were during the first twenty years after you came here. 
That would seem to show that the animal is getting 
scarcer." 

" Yes, or that it is now so valuable that people would 
rather have the two or three hundred doUara each skin 
will fetch than to have it stuflPed and set up in their 
houses." 

''I've never mounted a silver fox, father. Don't you 
think you had better do this one ?" 

''No, Barbara, I don't think anything of the kind. 
Tou know the habits of the animal better than I do, and 
you know how to mould the face into the proper expres- 
sion infinitely better than I, or, indeed, any one I know 
of. The gentleman could have had it mounted for ten 
dollars, but he chose to come here and pay fifty — for 
Mr. Maurice told him he would get a work of art here." 

*' Did he tell you how he got the fox, or give you an 
account of his hunt for it ? Any information on these 
points would be of great assistance in mounting the 
specimen." 

"No ; he only told me that last winter he visited a 



BARBAEA WORKS AND THINKS. 149 

friend at Fort Eesolution, on Great Slave Lake. This 
gentleman was a high oflScial in the service of the 
Hudson's Bay Company, and gave his visitor the oppor- 
tunity for many stirring adventures in the pursuit of skins, 
of wliich he was not slow to avail himself." 

" Then he's a great traveller, I suppose ?" 

*' 1 don't know about that. He must be fond of ad- 
venture, or he wouldn't fancy spending a winter at Fort 
Kesolution. " 

" He didn't shoot the fox. There were no bullet- 
holes in the skin." 

'' No ; he either caught it in a trap or poisoned it." 

*'I hope he didn't poison it," said Barbara; "that 
is such a mean way of killing an animal." 

Then again, after a few minutes, during which she had 
examined the stuffed skin, and which was ready to be 
placed in position on its temporary platform : *'I wish 
I knew how he caught it. There must be a story about 
the adventure, and if I knew it I could make use of it in 
getting ideas for setting the animal up." 

"Well, my dear, you can ask the owner to tell you 
all about it, for he's coming here this morning to get his 
treasure. He insisted on calling for it. He'll be disap- 
pointed, I'm afraidj unless you work pretty hard for the 
next hour." 

" Oh, he's coming for it this morning 1 Then I think 
I'll wait till he can tell me something about how he 
caught it. I'm sorry to disappoint him, but I think he 
will be pleased if I can carry out a plan I have for giving 
him a good piece of work. So, if you've no objections, 
I'll finish that apteryx that Mr. Balman s^nt here." 

" Yery well, my dear ; you can do as you please." 

" What an uninteresting bird an apteryx is I" she said, 



150 ME. OLDMIXON. 

after she had spent a few minutes in getting its legs into 
proper shape and setting its head in the most advanta- 
geous position. * ' There is so little opportunity for making 
a striking form. It's about equal, I suppose, to making 
a statue of an armless man. 1 can never quite get over 
the idea that the apteryx is a monstrosity, like the man 
without arms who plays the violin and writes letters and 
cuts silhouettes with his toes." 

" Ay, ay ; and it isn't remarkable for sense either. I 
had a live one once, and every time any one came near 
its cage it rammed its head into the sand." 

'' It isn't the only animal that thinks it can escape 
danger by shutting its eyes to it. Man does the same 
thing. What time is the owner of the silver fox coming ?" 

'' I suppose he'll call at about twelve o'clock. These 
fine fellows don't get out much before that time in the 
morning." 

*' Is he a fine fellow ? I thought you said the other 
day that he didn't look as though he had more money 
than he wanted." 

" Ha, ha, ha !" laughed the old man ; *' that was only 
my clumsy attempt at a joke. Did you ever, my Bar- 
bara, see a man, or a woman either, that looked as if they 
had more money than they wanted ? There may be such 
people, but 1 don't think you or I have ever seen them." 

'' Did he seem to care much how the mounting was 
done — 1 mean," she added, '^ did he appear to know what 
he wanted ?" 

*' Ay, did he I" exclaimed the old man. ^' He knows 
what's what, that you may depend upon. Do you think 
he'd have come here if he didn't, and pay fifty dollars 
for what Bangs would charge him ten for ? That looks, 
too, as if he had money enough, doesn't it ?" 



BARBAEA WORKS AND THINKS. 151 

The question was hardly one that required an answer, 
and Barbara went on with her work, wondering, how- 
ever, what kind of a man he could be that had such a 
high appreciation of their art as to pay five times as 
much for the mounting of his silver fox as he could get 
it done for by another taxidermist. Then, after a Httle 
cogitation over this enlightened and doubtless accom- 
plished person, and speculations as to his occupation and 
appearance, her thoughts reverted to Mr. Oldmixon, and 
especially to what he had told her relative to his two 
nephews. She could not help feeling an interest in them, 
for had she not decided their fate ? How strange it was 
that she should have been thus powerful in determining 
a question of such vast importance as the one Mr. Old- 
mixon had submitted to her, and one that concerned so 
nearly two men that she had yet never seen, and until a 
few days since had never even heard of ! She hoped 
she had done right. And yet, situated as she was, with 
scarcely a probability that she would even become ac- 
quainted with either one of the brothers, she felt that, 
in regard to this point, there would always be some doubt 
in her mind. One had, through her, been reduced from 
a position of wealth to what she had understood from 
Mr. Oldmixon was one of destitution. He had been the 
favored one, and had been brought up in luxury, with* 
all his wants supplied as soon as they were formed, and 
with expectations of succeeding, in the course of nature, 
to a large fortune. What would be his feelings toward 
her, she thought, if he knew of the agency she had had 
in reducing him to a penniless condition ? She had been 
told that he was bad past belief, but there must be some 
good in him. Everybody had that. Even Satan, as de- 
scribed by Milton, was brave and free from sycophancy. 



152 MB. OLDMIXON. 

There must be something in this yonng man that should 
have plead with her for a less condign punishment than 
that of taking all from him. He too might be brave and 
free from servility ; and if so, was not his punishment too 
great ? 

And as to the other : was it quite certain that he was 
as worthy as his nncle, with his heart embittered against 
the one whom he supposed had injured him, thought 
him to be ? Assuredly, there had not been that frame of 
mind present in Mr. Oldmixon that it was desirable should 
exist when a matter so important as the one in question 
was to be decided. If this new favorite were so good 
and noble as his uncle now represented him to be, why 
had he been neglected for all these years, and his unworthy 
brother exalted over him ? Mr. Oldmixon, though cer- 
tainly eccentric, was, as she plainly saw, no fool. Was it 
within the limits of possibility that, knowing these two as 
well as he did, he would have shamefully oppressed the 
one, and, with an equal disregard of justice, have exalted 
the other above his merits during a dozen years, and then 
only have been prompted by an unforeseen occurrence to 
act righteously ? It was hard for her to believe this, and 
yet she did believe it. There had been something that 
she could not quite understand about Mr. Oldmixon's 
manner that had carried conviction with it. Perhaps it 
was his earnestness, perhaps his unconscious nervousness, 
perhaps something in the expression of his countenance 
that he had not intended should appear, but that, never- 
theless, told her he was speaking the truth. No, he had 
not lied. He might be insane — of that she was not alto- 
gether sure— but he had been honest with her. Was a 
lunatic, she asked herself, necessarily a liar or always in- 
capable of perceiving matters correctly ? 



BABBABA WOEKS AND THINKS. 153 

Then suddenly an idea occurred to her that filled her 
with delight, and which, if it could be carried out, would, 
she believed, lead to a satisfactory settlement of the whole 
affair, so far as the money involved was concerned. It 
was this : If the elder brother were the good and mag- 
nanimous man that his uncle represented him to be, he 
would very willingly divide with the unfortunate one, 
who had so suddenly, and without any special fault of his 
own, so far as she could see, fallen from grace. It might 
safely be left in his hands with the confidence that he 
would act justly and kindly. She was afraid that she was 
prevented by her implied promise from revealing to him 
any part of the story told her by Mr. Oldmixon so long 
as he Hved. Well, there would be no occasion for her to 
open her mouth now. He had not yet come into posses- 
sion of the estate. When it was his, she could speak, and 
doubtless he would heed what she said, and do what was 
right. 

" There, father," she said, after all this and much more 
to a like effect had passed through her mind, ^^I have 
done the best I could with the apteryx." 

*' Why, Miss Barbara," said Peter, who at that moment 
entered the workshop from the office, '* you've made that 
bird so beautiful that if he could see out of those glass 
eyes, and look at himself in the glass, he wouldn't know 
himself.'^ 

*'Do you think so, Peter ?" replied Barbara, smiling. 
^' If you are right, the best thing I can do is to remount 
the wretch. If one apteryx doesn't know another apteryx 
when he sees him, something is wrong with one of them. 
Either the apteryx that looks is incapable of seeing things 
properly, or the apteryx that is looked at is not as he 
should be. Now, if this apteryx were to be endowed with 

7» 



154 MB. OLDMIXON. 

the sense of sight, and were to be incapable of recogniz- 
ing his own image in a glass — " 

" O Miss Barbara, you are laughing at me !" ex- 
claimed Peter ; '' you always make fun of me when I pay 
a compliment to your work. What I meant was, that that 
is the most beautifully mounted apteryx that was ever 
set up in New York. I saw one the other day that had 
been mounted in Paris, and it wouldn't compare with this. 
The eyes were as big as a ten-cent piece, while you have 
made these almost as small as the head of a pin. That's 
the way they ought to be. 1 heard Professor Laird say 
so, and this apteryx looks as if he was just about to pick 
up a worm." 

*' Well, Peter, worms are what they feed on. I tried 
to make him appear to be viewing with a critical eye a 
worm, as though he might be trying to decide whether or 
not it was sufficiently inviting to warrant him in making 
the necessary exertion for seizing it." 

'' And you've hit it exactly. He's got his head turned 
a little to one side, and his right eye is studying that 
worm with great deliberation. What life you do put into 
all your work. Miss Barbara !" 

The idea flashed through Peter's mind, that with her 
as his wife he could keep up the reputation of the place. 
He had thought before of the advantages of marrying 
Barbara, but he was rather inclined to be dull, and her 
skill and knowledge as a taxidermist had not previously 
entered into his calculations. Now, however, he saw how 
doubly desirable it was to get her for a wife. 

''I'm glad you admire the mounting," she said, 
after giving the least possible touch to one of the legs 
of the bird. ''It won't be many years before, like 
the dodo, the apteryx will become extinct. Then we 



BAEBARA W0EK8 AND THINKS. 155 

shall value these mounted specimens more than we do 
now." 

" I almost forgot what 1 came for," resumed Peter, 
with a laugh, having settled the matrimonial idea to his 
satisfaction. " The gentleman is here for his silver fox, 
which he said was promised for to-day. I didn't like to 
tell him that it wasn't done, for he seems so anxious to 
get it." 

" Oh, has he come !" exclaimed Barbara ; 'Til see 
him about it." 

She was not vain, but she was a very woman, so she 
gave a little glance into the old mirror, just so as to con- 
vince herself that there was nothing radically wrong about 
her appearance — no unbecoming disarrangement of her 
hair or of the pretty dark blue ribbon that she wore at 
her throat — and then she passed into the front room. 

She saw before her a tall, handsome, well-dressed man, 
with a face that had an evident unfamiliarity with the 
razor, for it was covered with the beard over the whole 
surface upon which nature intended it to grow, and 
who had, what she was quick to recognize, although 
not a fashionable young woman, the unmistakable air 
of a gentleman. That was about as much as she could 
ascertain from the rapid glance only that she could 
then give. 

He was standing with his hat on, but on her entrance 
he took it oflP at once, and made her a slight bow. This im- 
pressed her favorably, for very few of the men that came 
there, whether they pretended to be gentlemen or not, 
took off their hats in her presence, or smiled so graciously 
as did this visitor. 

'' I have come for my silver fox," he said, still smiling, 
and lookiug at Barbara with an expression of respectful 



156 MB. OLDMIXON, 

admiration, that she was not slow to observe. " It was to 
be done to-day, I believe. " 

^' Yes," she answered ; *^ father promised to have it fin- 
ished to-day, but we have been unable to get it ready, ow- 
ing to the want of certain information that we thought 
might enable us to do a better piece of work than if we 
went at it ignorantly." 

" Then you arej Miss Henschel !" he said, a still more 
pleased expression passing over his face. " I have often 
heard of you as taking such a great artistic interest in yonr 
work. In fact, it was my friend Professor Laird, of the 
Smithsonian Institution, who told me to come to you with 
my fox. He said you were the only person in the coun- 
try that could set it up as a work of art — the art that in- 
terprets nature correctly." 

*^ Professor Laird is a good friend of ours, and is 
very kind." She was dying to know who this gentleman 
was who talked of art, and whose prepossessions were so 
greatly iu her favor ; but she thought it would never do 
to ask the question directly. Doubtless she would find 
out before he left. *^ I am very willing. Miss Henschel, 
to give you any information that will enable you to mount 
my fox in the most artistic manner. It is such a beauti- 
ful specimen of a rare animal, that I want the most made 
of it that is possible. You see, I'm an artist myself." 

An artist ! She might have known it, she thought, 
for who but an artist would talk as he had talked about 
*' artistic interest" and " art interpreting nature !" The 
people generally that came there, except, of course, the 
scientific ones, were such commonplace beings ! This 
one was very different. 

*' I should like to know how you caught it ?" 

^' After two weeks of incessant labor and vigilance, in 




BARBARA WORKS AND THINKS. 157 

which the fox's wits were pitted against mine, and in 
which he always won till the last night, I succeeded in 
catching him in a trap." 

*'I'm glad you did not poison it. 1 knew you had 
not shot it, for there were no holes in the skin, and 1 
thought the silver fox was too cunning to be caught in 
traps." 

'' I did not like to poison him, but 1 wanted his skin 
very badly, and I think if 1 had not caught him at last, I 
should have been mean enough to poison him. You 
would not have liked that, would you ?" 

''No," answered Barbara, frankly ; ''I have a horror 
of poison. I might excuse its use against savage animals 
that we might wish to kill for our protection, but as a 
means of destroying them for their skins, I wouldn't use 
it." 

*' Hunters have not your nice discrimination," said the 
gentleman. '' They are making their living by getting 
skins — and a hard living it is, too — and they are not likely 
to stand on ceremony with the animal that has a skin they 
want. However, I am happy to say that to some extent 
I share your feelings. Miss Henschel ; and, at any rate, this 
fox was not poisoned. 1 suppose I could have had him 
a great deal sooner if I had put some strychnine in a piece 
of dried beef and laid it on the snow near some one of 
his haunts, but 1 could not quite make up my mind to 
treat him so treacherously. Besides, he had a reputation 
for knowing poisoned meat." 

' ' That was right 1 ' ' said Barbara, emphatically. ' ' Now, 
please tell me exactly how you caught him, because I 
propose to mount him in as nearly as possible the attitude 
he took just before he was captured." 

'' You must know. Miss Henschel, that the cold at Fort 



168 MB. OLDMIXON. 

Eesolution— where I was staying with a friend— is, dar- 
ing the winter months, so intense that for weeks together 
the mercury is frozen in the thermometer bulbs. I liked 
it, however, and when well protected the sensation on 
going out in the morning is deUghtful. The effect on 
the circulation of a man — ^he has to be a strong one, 
though — is not unlike that of a glass or two of cham- 
pagne. 

*^ I wanted a silver fox, and I determined to get one. 
The animal is becoming scarcer every year, and wiU soon 
be extinct ; and that made me all the more anxious to 
succeed." 

^' Won't you walk into the next room ?" interrupted 
Barbara, perceiving that the story would take some little 
time to tell. '^ It is our workshop, and, though I shall 
not show you your fox — I don't want you to see him till 
he is finished — ^you will be less likely to be interrupted 
there." 

'^ I regard this as a great compliment. Miss Henschel," 
he continued, sitting down in a big Shaker rocking-chair 
that Barbara pushed toward him, while she sat on a stool 
in front of her work-bench. ^ ^ This is your studio, ' ' look- 
ing around him as he spoke. ^' Ah, here are many of 
your works ! An apteryx I I could swear that fellow 
is alive I He looks exactly like one that 1 saw in the 
Jardin des Plantes picking up worms that had been put 
into a mass of earth for his delectation. You know — of 
course you do, or you would never have put such an ex- 
pression into his right eye and his head — that he is a very 
dainty bird, and the worm must be a first-class one, or else 
he will not eat it. This particular apteryx looks as though 
he was working every bit of brain he has in the effort to 
determine whether or not he shall gobble up the worm 



BARBARA WORKS AND THINKS. 159 

that 18 lying on the ground before him. There must be 
a worm there," he continued, getting up and pretending 
to look for one on the imitation moss on which the speci- 
men stood. ^' No, there is none. It has probably crawled 
away while Master Apteryx was delibertiting." 

Barbara laughed. '^ 1 didn't think 1 could make much 
of the apteryx," she said ; ^^ it has no wings, or at least 
only little stumps, and no tail, either." 

'^ But you have done all with it that was possible. The 
truest artist is the one that makes the most of his subject, 
without passing the limits of truth ; and this you have 
done." 

*^ Thanks ; you are very kind to say all that. I'd 
rather please an artist than a king." 

" Who told you I was an artist ?" 

^^ You did just now." 

^' Did I ? I had forgotten. I ought to have told you 
my name too, oughtn't I ?" Then, without waiting for 
an answer, he handed her a visiting card. 

"I don't suppose you have ever heard of me," he 
went on ; '^ but as we are likely to have sundry confer- 
ences about that silver fox that you are going to mount 
so artistically forme, you should know what to call me." 

Barbara took the little piece of pasteboard and read : 



Mr. John Oldm^xon^ 

The Vandyke, 

61 West —th street. 



CHAPTER XI. 

JACK AND HIS FOX. 

Barbara was overwhelmed with astonishment to find 
that her visitor was no less a person than that nephew of 
Mr. Oldmixon that had been so badly treated, and that 
now, after years of neglect, had come, or was about to 
come, through her decision, more than ever into his un- 
cle's favor. Surely, he must see the look of surprise on her 
countenance, and wonder why the announcement of his 
name had caused so great a degree of facial disturbance. 
She dreaded to look, but yet, like a bird drawn irre- 
sistibly into the snake's jaws, she felt that she must look. 
She raised her eyes. No ; he had not observed her. He 
was studying the apteryx. 

^^ Ah, young man !" she thought to herself, '^ little do 
you know what I've done for you. I'm glad I did it. 
1 like him. I'm sure he's ever so much better than the 
other. He isn't a bit like his uncle. No wonder he said 
this one didn't look like an Oldmixon, and had none of 
their bad traits. " 

^' Now, Mr. Oldmixon," she said, " won't you tell me 
something more about the silver fox ?" 

" Oh, yes ! I was so busy looking around at your 
work, that I forgot all about the fox. Well, I used to go 
out every morning with my gun, looking for a silver fox, 
and one very cold day, and when the snow was falling, I 
saw the track of one in the new snow. Of course I fol- 



jack: and his fox. 161 

lowed it. It led me several miles to a thick pine forest, 
and here 1 lost it. I went home, got my trap, and at once 
started out to set it before night. I placed it, nicely 
baited, just at the edge of the wood, and then started for 
the fort, which I did not reach, however, till long after 
dark. 

" The next morning, early, I was off to inspect my trap. 
"What was my surprise to find that the fox had been 
there, and had taken the bait without disturbing the 
underpinning of the fall, and had thus gotten off. 1 
knew it was the fox, for I saw his tracks around the spot. 
I made use of some words very derogatory to my good 
sense in not fastening the bait more sectirely; and then I 
set the trap again. 

" When 1 got home and told my story at dinner, I 
was greeted with a hearty laugh by the assembled wisdom 
at the table. Somers, my friend, was particularly dis- 
posed to make fun of me. ^You've got hold of ^^old 
Machiavelli," ^ he said, 'and you've tried to catch him 
by putting salt on his tail. That's what it amounts to. 
Why, my dear fellow, every man, woman, and child at 
Fort Eesolution has made an attempt to catch '^ old Mach- 
iavelli " ; but he roams the forest and the plain, as sound 
in mind and body as he was three years ago, when we 
first made his acquaintance.' 

*' ' Has anybody ever seen him ? ' I ventured to 'ask, 
with all due humility. 

^' At this every one burst into a loud laugh. 

^' ' Seen him ! ' shouted Somers—' seen old Machia- 
velli ! Do you take him for a fool, that he'd let any 
one see him ? ' 

'' ' I don't know what he is,' I answered, somewhat 
put out by the manner in which I was treated ; ' he 



162 MB. OLDMLXON. 

may be the devil, for all I know. Probably he is, as you 
seem to know so much about him.' 

" ' My dear Oldmixon,' said Somers, still laughing, 
' " old Machiavelli" is the name given to a silver fox that 
is the cnnningest of all his kind. He first made this 
region his dwelling-place about three years ago. Where 
he came from no one knows, but he was full-grown in 
mind and body when he arrived. No one has ever laid 
eyes on him, but by his tracks he is known to be a very 
large animal. I say no one has ever seen him, but that 
may be an error. Kashacogno, an Indian buck, declares 
he saw him one evening, just as the sun was going down, 
and that he was as large as a wolf ; but as Kashacogno 
had been drinking of fire-water pretty heavily that after- 
noon, his testimony is to be taken with some grains of al- 
lowance. 

'' ' Then we tried to capture him, dead or alive. Traps 
of all kinds were made use of ; but if they were very deli- 
cately set, he would either not go near them, or would 
manage to knock the arrangement down and to drag out 
the bait at his leisure. K they were coarsely set, as yours 
was last m'ght, he would go in and deliberately take oflE 
the bait, without bringing down the trap. Then strych- 
nine was tried, but never once would he eat a piece of 
poisoned meat. He'd turn it over and over, and once 
carried a piece a mile away from the place where it was 
laid ; but then he had dropped it, having apparently, in 
some way or other, discovered that it was poisoned. ' 

«^ i "Why didn't you watch the traps and shoot him ? ' 
I inquired. 

'' ' "We watched the traps day after day and night after 
night, but never once did he make his appearance. He 
has the keenest eyesight and hearing and the best brain 



JACK AND HIS FOX. 163 

of any fox that ever lived in these parts. Finally we 
gave up trying to catch him, and named him " old Mach- 
iavelli," as a compliment to his astuteness.' 

" All this sank deeply into my heart, and I resolved 
that I would have that fox, if I had to devote a whole 
winter to the work of capturing him. I set a trap, and 
finding that he gnawed away the string with which the 
bait was fastened so delicately that he did not disturb 
the underpinning, I fastened the meat with wire, so that 
he. would have to make more disturbance than if a piece 
of deer-skin or a cord was used ; but then he would not 
touch it. I tried this several times, and always with the 
same result. Once I saw him. 1 had set my trap, and 
had retired to a clump of underbrush about a hundred 
yards to leeward, and then secreting myself, resolved to 
wait there, if I had to stay till dark. I waited, and not 
only till dark, but far into the night. Fortunately, there 
was a full moon, and this, with the bright stars and a 
wonderful aurora, that lit up the sky and the snow, made 
it almost as light as day. I sat on a log and watched 
my trap ; but I was hungry, and it was after nine o'clock, 
and I had at least five miles to go to reach Fort Resolu- 
tion. I was just getting ready to go home when I 
thought 1 saw something moving stealthily toward the 
trap. The night was cold and the light wind was blow- 
ing from the trap toward me, so that I knew the animal, 
whatever it was, could not detect me by the scent. I 
rose to my feet, and strained my eyes to their utmost. 
Yes, it was ^ old Machiavelli ' undoubtedly — ^the biggest 
silver fox I had ever seen, and with head thrust forward 
and ears erect, moving slowly toward the trap. I could 
have killed him with my rifle, perhaps, but 1 had vowed 
to catch him with a whole skin, so I would not fire. 



164 MB. OLDMIXON. 

though strongly tempted to do so. So slowly that I 
could barely see that he moved, he approached the trap, 
to a distance, as nearly as 1 could judge, of three feet from 
it, and there he stood, surveying it, and doubtless bring- 
ing to bear upon it all the acumen with which a wise 
Providence had endowed him." 

Barbara had been deeply absorbed tliroughout the 
whole of Jack's recital ; but as he told her how the fox 
had stood and looked at the trap, her interest became still 
greater. She left the bench on which she was sitting, 
and going to a corner of the room, stood there before 
something that was on a table, and at which she began to 
busy her delicately formed fingers. 

'' Now, Mr. Oldmixon," she said, " don't look at me, 
please. No," as Jack turned his face toward her, '' you 
must look the other way. Yes, that will do," as he 
wheeled round his chair, so that the back was toward her. 
" Now, tell me just exactly how the fox stood and 
looked at that trap." 

^' Well," said Jack, obediently — ^he rather liked being 
ordered about by Barbara, and he must paint her if he 
died for it — ^^ he stood as motionless as a statue, his head 
projected forward — " 

^^ Tes," interrupted Barbara, pulling the head of the 
silver fox first one way and then the other, while she 
slowly repeated his words, ^' his head projected forward. " 

^' In a straight line with the rest of his body," con- 
tinued Jack. 

^^ Yes," as she worked deftly at the specimen. 

^^ His ears thrown in the same direction so strongly 
that they were almost on a line with the top of his head. " 

^* Ears almost on a line with the top of his head — wait 
a moment, Mr. Oldmixon, please." 



JACK AND HIS FOX. 165 

" O Miss Henschel !" exclaimed Jack, who up to this 
time appeared to have been under the impression that she 
was writing out his description for future use, " are you 
mounting my fox now T 

" You mustn't ask any questions, and you mustn't look. 
K you do either, you will break the charm." 

^* I'll do just as you say." 

'' Now," said Barbara, after she had moulded the ears 
into the position in which she wanted them, and had 
stuffed them with a little cotton wool, *^ go on, please." 

^' His left foot raised from the ground in the attitude 
that a pointer takes when he comes on a covey of part- 
ridges, and his brush as straight a continuation of the 
line of his spine as though it had been laid out with rule 
and compass." 

Barbara worked on in silence for a minute or two, and 
then, 

^' What was that you said about something being on a 
line with his spine ?" 

" I said his brush was — " 

^^ His brush ! Oh, yes, 1 know now. You are giv- 
ing it the huntsman's designation. We taxidermists call 
it a tail. " 

Jack laughed at this, and then Barbara laughed, going 
on with her work, all the time sponging the skin, so as 
to moisten it, and then moulding it with her hands into the 
shape she wanted. Finally she appeared to have fin- 
ished. She looked at her work from several points of 
view, giving it a few touches here and there, and then 
covering it with a cloth, washed her hands. ^' Now, 
Mr. Oldmixon," she said, ^' was the fox, as he was look- 
ing at the trap, anything like this ?" 

He came toward where she was standing, and she raised 



166 ME. OLDMIXON. 

the cloth, reveah'ng to him his fox in the attitude of at- 
tention and inquiry that he had described. He was 
delighted. 

^^ I have never seen anything in the way of taxidermy 
as good as this," he said, while his face expressed the 
pleasure and astonishment he felt. ^^ You have got the 
position of the animal exactly as I saw it, and you have 
done it with a degree of ease and celerity that I could 
not have believed possible. Ton did not acquire your 
art. Miss Henschel. It was bom in you. No wonder 
everybody praises your work, when you turn out such 
specimens of it as this." 

*^ I am glad you like it. I felt the impulse to do it 
while you were describing the scene to me. One can 
work so much better when the inspiration is present than 
when one has to work because one must." 

*^ Yes, I feel the truth of that constantly. I think, 
when I complete a picture that I am under an engage- 
ment to paint for Mr. Yan der Linden, I shall do no 
more work to order. You ought to model in clay. Miss 
Henschel ; that is your vocation." 

'' Do you think so ?" 

'^ I know it. You are a genius. You will never get 
credit for your artistic inspiration while you confine your 
work, beautiful as it is, to mounting animals. You 
should attempt the human form. You should become a 
sculptor, and, my word for it, ere many years have 
passed you will make the world ring with your praises." 

She was silent, but his words fell on willing ears — ears 
that were much more ready to hear than they were when 
her father had said almost the same things to her only a 
few days previously. For, in the mean time, she had 
thought much of what the old man had said, and the spirit 



JACK AND HIS FOX. 167 

of ambition was beginning to be developed within her. 
And now an artist — one who must be distinguished, for 
he was painting a picture for the rich Mr. Van der Lin- 
den, who had the grand gallery that she had already vis- 
ited twice on days on which he threw it open to the pub- 
lic — ^had praised her work. Her revery was broken in 
upon by Jack. 

" Will you allow me to take this home with me now, 
Miss Henschel ? I have a few friends coming to visit 
me to-night, and 1 should be delighted to show it to 
them." 

^^ But it is not quite finished. It is to have a board 
yet to stand on — a board covered with artificial snow." 

'' I'll get the board and the artificial snow. PU also 
have a trap made and placed right in front of him, and 
then I shall have the scene before me in all its exactness, 
whenever I look at it." 

" But it is wet ; it will take several hours yet for it 
to dry." 

'^ I'll carry it with the utmost care. I'll get a cab 
from a livery stable around the comer, and that will 
insure ray getting it home in safety." 

" Well," said Barbara, laughing, ^^ if you want it so 
badly as all that, I suppose you can take it." 

'* Thanks ! I'm ever so much obliged to you. Now, 
I'll get a carriage, and then I'll rid you of the fox and 
myself at the same time." 

He went out, but was back before Barbara had had 
time to tell much of the incident to her father, who had 
in the mean time returned from a visit he had been mak- 
ing to the American Museum of Natural History. 

Jack had met Mr. Henschel before, and he was glad 
tosneet him again, in order, to discharge with more ease 



168 MB. OLDMIXON. 

to himself an important duty that still remained to be 
performed, and that was, paying for the mounting of his 
specimen of the silver fox. It would have been un- 
pleasant to him, after his conversation with Barbara and 
his references to ^^high art," and, above all, after the 
impression that her beauty and sweetness had made on 
him, to spoil all by tendering her the fifty dollars he had 
agreed to give for the work. It would have caused a jar 
to his feelings to have them mixed up with a pecuniary 
transaction. But with Mr. Henschel no such delicacy 
would be experienced, so he opened his pocketbook, and 
placed five crisp ten-dollar notes in the old man's hand, 
much to the latter 's satisfaction, for he loved money as 
fondly as do most people, whether they be rich or poor, 
grand or humble. 

While Mr. Henschel went into the office to make out 
a bill and receipt. Jack thought it a good chance to give 
expression to an idea that had occurred to him with more 
or less distinctness soon after he first saw Barbara, and 
that had now become perfected to his satisfaction. 

^^1 told you. Miss Henschel," he said, ^'that I had 
accepted an order from Mr. Van der Linden for a picture. 
He has very intelligently left the subject to me, and I 
think I have at last settled upon one that I may be able 
to develop into something ; but I want your assistance." 

'^ My assistance, Mr. Oldmixon !" exclaimed Barbara. 

*' Yes, yours ;" and his voice became lower and more 
earnest. '^ I have been in doubt in regard to my ability 
to carry out the conception, for 1 lack imagination ; but 
since I have seen you I am reassured. Miss Henschel, 
1 want you to sit for the principal figure in my compo- 
sition." 

Barbara was frankness itself, and altogether free from 



JACK AND HI8 POX 169 

that species of vanity that causes some people to seem to 
avoid or to refuse what they are especially anxious to 
receive or grant. She answered at once, '^ I should be 
very glad to do so, Mr. Oldraixon, but I am afraid I 
have no time, and besides," she added, ^' I have no one 
to go with me to your studio." 

^' Oh, I shall not ask you to put yourself to such an 
inconvenience ! Although 1 am deficient in imagination, 
I have a wonderful memory. All I ask is, that you will 
allow me to come here for an hour every day for a week, 
and look at you, and perhaps I may ask you to let me 
set up my easel here for a few days.' ' 

" 1 don't think there would be the least objection to 
that, but I will ask father. What is the subject that you 
have determined upon, Mr. Oldmixon ?" 

" I had determined to paint Queen Alfgive pleading 
with her husband. King Knut, for the life of an Anglo- 
Saxon earl who would not give his allegiance to the 
Danes ; but I have, since I came here, given that up. I 
shall now, if you let me, paint ^ The Taxidermists ' — 
you and your father at work in this room." 

*^ But, Mr. Oldmixon, the other is a much more noble 
subject, 1 should think. " 

*^ I don't know anything about its nobility, and I don't 
know anything, either, about Queen Alfgive or King 
Knut or the Anglo-Saxon earl — the subject came into 
my mind at dinner a night or two ago — but this place 
1 know, and you and your father I know. You are flesh 
and blood of our own day ; and if I do not mistake Mr. 
Van der Linden, he would infinitely prefer this subject to 
the other. What does he care about Danish kings and 
queens and Anglo-Saxon earls ? All those historical sub- 
jects run in one rut. 1 should look through some illu- 
8 



i 



170 MB. OLDMIXOH". 

minated mannscripts to get the costnmes and architect- 
nre, and then I should place the king on his throne, and 
the earl held by two soldiers, and the queen on her knees 
supplicating her lord, and that would be all. But here I 
should have your father, with his fine old face, and you, 
with your — ^your — ^looking, you know, at a bird or some- 
thing, and the silver gray fox — ^yes, working at the silver 
gray fox, with other animals standing around, just as they 
are here. Oh, I could make a glorious picture of all 
that I" 

He spoke with an enthusiasm that delighted Barbara, 
and she looked at him with undisguised admiration. 
Here was an artist — one who felt all that he expressed, 
and one, moreover, who had received an inspiration from 
her and her associations. All this was very pleasant to 
her, for nothing so rouses the sympathy of a woman as 
to discover that she is a power and exerting an influence 
over some one she likes or, still more, loves. Of course 
Barbara did not love Jack Oldmixon. She was not a 
woman, sensitive though she was, to lose her heart on a 
first acquaintance. She could very readily have dis- 
pensed with his society from that time on to the end of 
her days, without experiencing more than a transient re- 
gret that one who was agreeable to her had passed out 
of her life. But he was interesting, and there was not 
so much variety in her existence that she could view 
with indifference the advent of a handsome, intelligent, 
sympathizing, and, above all, art-loving young man like 
Jack into the course of her life, without there being 
more or less emotional disturbance of a pleasant charac- 
ter. This proposition of his, to make her and her father 
the subject of his picture, was one, however, to which she 
was not able to give her consent without the concurrence 



JACK AND HIS FOX. 171 

of her father ; but she did not anticipate any difficulty 
on that score. He generally allowed her to have her 
own way, for her way was a good one, and no one knew 
it better than Mr. Henschel. 

Jack intuitively divined what was passing in her mind. 
*^ Of course," he said, ^^I shall ask your father's con- 
sent. I only wanted to get yours first, for if it is not 
agreeable to you, that's the end of it. I hope you ap- 
prove. Miss Henschel ?" 

'' If the subject is one that you think you could make 
interesting, you are at ps*rfect liberty to paint it, so far 
as I am concerned. 1 don't think my father will object. 
He is very proud of his art, and so am I." 

^^ Well, here he is, and 1 will ask him now." 

Jack then laid the subject before Mr. Henschel, and 
was happy to find that the old man entered with great 
enthusiasm into the idea. That he should see his Bar- 
bara in a picture that would probably become famous — 
one that, at any rate, would hang in a famous collection, 
and be seen by many people, was a thought that gave 
him great satisfaction. He had a very keen appreciation 
of his daughter's peculiar style of beauty, and when he 
encountered a person that saw it as he saw it, his heart 
expanded with that phase of self-complacency that most 
of us feel when others approve of our thoughts or acts. 
It did not take long to arrange the matter, so it was set- 
tled that Jack should begin the next day by bringing his 
easel and all his other paraphernalia to the shop, and that 
he should then study the interior, so as to form a clear 
conception of what he wanted. " I shall not be sur- 
prised," he said, 'Mf I shall have to spend the first two 
or three days in making up my mind how to arrange you, 
80 as to get the best effect. Yes," looking around as he 



172 ME, OLDMIXON. 

spoke, *' I shall have to change your position, Miss Hen* 
schel, so as to get you more in the light of that window. 
However, we'll arrange all that to-morrow. Good -by," 
he continued, holding out his hand, and smiling, while 
in the other he held his silver fox. ^' I shall brino: 
this back to-morrow, and place it where it will be well 
seen in my picture. I am greatly obliged to you. Miss 
Henschel. I hope I have not stayed too long, and tired 
you out with my loquacity ; but the time was passing so 
pleasantly that 1 forgot myself." 

*^But," said Barbara, laughing, ^'you have not yet 
told me how you caught the silver fox." 

*' No ; and therefore there is another reason why I 
should return. It's a very interesting story. Miss Hen- 
schel. Again, good-by !" 

His carriage was at the door, and entering it, he was 
driven away in the direction of his residence. But he 
had not gone more than a block when, putting his head 
out of the window, he called to the driver. 

''Go to No. 73 Lake Street," he said ; " 1 like com- 
parisons," he continued to himself. " I'll take a look 
at that other girl who is a taxidermist, and who Sliven 
told me was so expert at the art as to have no rival in 
this or any other country. I'll see if it's taxidermy that 
makes angels out of women." In a few minutes the 
carriage stopped in front of a respectable-looking house, 
and Jack got out. On the door was a sign, " Thomas 
Bangs & Co., Taxidermists." In a large bay-window 
were several specimens of the taxidermist's art. A bell 
on a spring rang as he opened the door, and then he 
found himself in an apartment the walls of which 
were lined with cases containing stuffed animals of vari- 
ous kinds. From an inner room, doubtless brought out 



JACK Al^D HIS FOX. 173 

by the sound of the bell, came a yotmg woman dressed 
in tawdry finery, a heavy gold chain — or of what looked 
like gold — around her neck, her hair frizzled all over her 
head, and her face and hands showing evident marks 
of unfamiliarity with soap and water. He looked spe- 
cially at her hands. He had observed that Barbara, 
after completing the mounting of his silver fox, had 
washed her hands before joining him again. This girl's 
were dirty, and her nails were uncared for. He had 
seen enough, but he thought a little further exploration 
would be gratifying. 

" Is Mr. Bangs in ?" he inquired. 

" No, he ain't in ; but if you want to see him on busi- 
ness, I guess I can attend to it." 

** 1 have a wolverine that 1 would like to have 
mounted." 

^^ A what?" 

*^A wolverine — one that I captured in Canada last 
winter, and that I would like to have mounted. I will 
send the skin and the skull to you to-morrow." 

The girl seemed confused. She was not a bad-look- 
ing girl, or rather she would not have been bad-looking 
had she been clean and kempt. She had a bright pair of 
eyes, a good mouth and teeth, a naturally clear com- 
plexion, and by the great majority of people — ^men 
or women — would have been considered a far more 
beautiful girl than was Barbara Henschel. Soap and 
water and care, of which Barbara had no stint, would 
have made this girl still more attractive, and not one in 
a hundred would have passed her by for the red-haired 
^irl, with the glorious smile, whose beauty required to 
be looked for and thought of in order to be recognized. 

Then, undeniably, this girl was ignorant. She did 



* 



» .^^. 



174 MB. OLDMIXON. 

not know what a wolverine was, and her speech was like 
that of a New York shop girl of the lowest grade. 

" Pa's not in, as I said," she observed, after she had 
apparently made up her mind in regard to the kind of 
animal under consideration, '' but we can do it, 1 guess. 
We've stuflEed a good many wolves in our time. I'm 
Miss Bangs, and I do the finishing. Them wolves re- 
quires a good deal of life to be put into them. I done 
one for Mr. Jacobs, in Fifth Avenue, and he said it was 
just splendid." 

^* But the wolverine is not a woK. It is altogether a 
different kind of an animal. It's sometimes called the 
glutton, and it is the pest of the hunters in the north, 
for it steals the bait out of their traps." 

** I guess there's a picture of it in ^ The Quadrupeds 
of North America.' I'll mount it after that pattern, if 
there is one. Stop a minute ! We ain't got that book, 
but when we want to use it I go over to the Astor 
Library, and I copy the pictures we want on a piece of 
tracing paper. But there's a ^Webster's Unabridged' 
here, and I'll look it up if you'll wait a little." 

She took down the large quarto volume, and began to 
turn over the leaves. After she had done so, much to 
Jack's amusement, for several minutes, she exclaimed : 

*'No, it ain't here. You never can find the thing 
you want in them dictionaries." 

" Let me look, please," said Jack. She handed him 
the book. 

'' Here's ^ wolf,' " she said, " and — oh, yes, here it is 
in the next column, and I never seen it ! And a pict- 
ure of it, too! We might set yours up just like that." 

Jack had seen and heard enough. 

'' I'U send you the skin and skull to-morrow, Miss 



f 

\ 



»* 



(( 
a 



JACK AND HIS POX. 175 

Bangs," he said, " and yon can mount it in your own 
way. Doubtless," he added — Jack was always polite — 

you will succeed admirably." 

Oh, we never make no failures I Do you want a 
glass case for it ?" 

^^ No, I have not yet made up my mind what to do 
with it." 

" Name J please." 

" John Oldmixon," giving her his card as he spoke. 

" We generally require a deposit, unless the skin's 
valuable." 

*^ Well, as this skin isn't worth much, I come under 
the rule. How much shall I leave you ?" 

" It will cost eight dollars to mount it. I guess five 
dollars will do. You can send the money down with 
the skin." 

''No, I'll leave it now. It will save trouble to do 
so." 

He laid a five-dollar note on the counter, took the 
receipt she handed him, and with a bow left the house. 

" That girl's a tradeswoman — a shop girl," he said, 
as he got into the carriage. '' The other one's a lady 
and an artist. Dress the Bangs girl up, and she'd stand 
a good chance of getting the prize for beauty at a dime 
museum or an agricultural fair, while the other requires 
a gentleman and an artist to see her beauty. The one 
scarcely varied the expression of her countenance the 
whole time she was talking ; the other's face is a study ; 
it changes with every thought she conceives and every 
emotion she feels, and when she smiles — well, I never 
saw anything like her smile, and I haven't been blind 
to female beauty, either. Two taxidermists I They're 
as different as night and day. The one practises it as a 



176 MB. OLDMIXON. 

trade, the other studies it as an art. The one is a 
coarse, ignorant, vulgar woman, with no soul above the 
shop ; the other's an angel." 

And with this conclusion, the final word of which 
seemed to him to embody in its meaning all the virtues 
and perfections that are ever bestowed on womankind. 
Jack's thoughts became less cohercDt, though they were 
still concerned with Barbara Henschel. 



'^. 



CHAPTER Xn. 

A PAIR OF DOCTORS. 

Mr. Oldmixon was so overcome by the nefarionsness 
of Mr. Partridge in putting currant jelly on canvas-back 
duck, and by the excitement that had been developed, 
followed as it was by a severe degree of reaction, that 
he was not able to leave his room for several days. 
Jack saw him every morning for half an hour or so, but 
his uncle was at no time in a fit condition to disclose his 
intentions relative to his nephew's future life that he 
had incorporated into his will. Finally, it was deemed 
advisable to call in a physician. The gentleman came, 
asked a few questions, felt his patient's pulse, looked at 
his tongue, listened at his chest. 

*^ Weak heart," he said under his breath. Then to 
the patient : " My dear sir, it appears to me that you have 
received a severe shock of some kind. Your nervous 
system is all unstrung, and your heart feels it very evi- 
dently. Am 1 correct in my smpicions ?' ' 

" Two shocks, doctor," said Mr. Oldmixon, feebly 

— '^two, one after the other, and both severe. The 

nature of the first I prefer not to communicate to you ; 

but the second is the result of a man— a fellow that I 

took to be a gentleman, and that I invited to my table 

— an aesthetic table — at which all the appointments, from 

the salt-cellars to the guests, were in keeping, and of 

which the menu was the result of days of anxious study. 
^ 8* 



178 MB. OLDMIXOK. 

The ducks — canvas-backs — were cooked according to the 
principles of physical and gastronomic science. There 
was one apiece, and the rich, fragrant, crimson-streaked 
juice flowed gently from their pectoral muscles when the 
knives — silver-plated — coursed through them like the 
sharp-cut bow of a gondola through the bosom of the 
' Adriatic." 

Mr. Oldmixon stopped to take breath, and the doctor, 
not quite sure, perhaps, that the metaphor was correct, 
and that his patient might not be the subject of a little 
mental confusion, looked as much surprised as his ex- 
pressionless face permitted. Certainly the prelude to 
Mr. Oldmixon 's account of his shock was altogether dif- 
ferent from any that he had ever heard before, and he 
could not imagine to what it tended. He was not a 
club-man, or one accustomed to good dinners, and hence 
his patient's language was almost unintelligible. 
• ''Well, doctor, would you believe it," resumed Mi. 
Oldmixon — after having mixed the yolk of an egg with 
a glass of sherry and swallowed the compound — '^ one 
of my guests, a man who, as I have just said, I thought 
was a gentleman — one who, at any rate, if he did have 
depraved tastes, would not seek to gratify them at my 
table — this man having cut oflE a slice of duck that would 
have tempted the Pope in the middle of Lent, orders 
some currant jelly to be brought to him — ^he wouldn't 
have got it in my house, and 1 think I shall resign from 
the Lucullus for keeping such a vile mixture — and hav- 
ing got it, deliberately spreads it over the luscious-look- 
ing morsel that lay on his plate waiting for proper ap- 
preciation, as if he was lathering his nasty face with soap- 
suds, and then proceeds to eat the horrid mdange. P 
restrained myself as well as I could — being at my owq 



A PAIR OF DOCTORS. 179 

table — but the ejffort was a task such as I have never 
performed before, and was, as you see, sufficient to 
precipitate me into this dreadful state. 

' If I had a thunderbolt in my eye, 
I can teU who shonld down ; 
It wonld be that wretch.* ** 

*^Tou don't mean to say," said Dr. Jimnay, who 
probably had never eaten canvas-back duck in his life, 
with or without jelly, ^' that the state in which 1 find 
you has been induced by one of your friends putting 
currant jelly on duck !" 

^* Canvas-back, doctor ! Jelly is good enough on a 
barnyard duck, for you want something to give it a 
flavor ; but on a canvas-back ! O Lord, the very 
thought makes me faint !" Then calling to Jack, he 
whispered to him, ^* Pay that man his fee and send 
him off. He's not a gentleman ; he doesn't know a can- 
vas-back from a scoot, whose flesh tastes like a Dutch 
herring. Get me a gentleman, and get this man out of 
the room ; the very sight of him makes me sick. He 
has a bad countenance ; I wouldn't like to meet him at 
night in a dark alley if he had a grudge against me and 
he was armed with a box of pills. He'd seize me and 
make me swallow the lot. Get him out and send for 
Milledge ; he knows what's what, and he's a gentleman, 
besides." 

Jack discharged the rather unpleasant duty put upon 
him by his uncle with all the tact and discretion of 
which he was capable, and the obnoxious son of Galen 
took his departure, with his fee in his pocket. 

** How much did you give him, Jack ?" asked Mr. 
Oldmixon, in a feeble voice, as the door closed. 



180 MB. OLDMIXOK. 

'^ Five dollars." 

*^ What !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, rising up in his 
bed and resting on one elbow, while he gazed at Jack 
with an expression of the utmost sm^rise on his face, 
" did you say five dollars ?" 

^' Tes ; I gave him what he asked, of course." 

" Five dollars !" groaned Mr. Oldmixon, sinking back 
on the mass of pillows behind him. ^' No wonder ! 
What can you expect from a doctor that charges five 
dollars for a first visit to a case like this ? A case of 
nervous prostration, that requires the skill and tact of a 
first-class man for its elucidation, to be attended to by a 
fellow that values his opinion at five dollars ! Have 
you sent for Milledge ? Get him at once, and let me 
forget all about that little beast. 

' Learn from the beast the physic of the field.' 

Ha, ha ! that's a somewhat diCEerent meaning from what 
Pope intended, but it suits the emergency. I've had 
my beast, and I've learnt my physic." 

^^ Yes, uncle, I've sent for him," said Jack, with a 
smile that he could not repress. '' You won't get off 
with five dollars from him. It will be twenty-five, at 
least." 

" All right, and I shall have the consolation of know- 
ing that my medical attendant is a gentleman that doesn't 
put currant jelly on canvas-back duck." 

The great man came, saw his patient, treated him with 
the most sympathizing hauteur and autocratic kindness, 
smiled incredulously when told that a guest at the Lucul- 
lus had put currant jelly on a canvas-back, threw up his 
hands in a deprecatory manner when told that the man 



A PAIE OP DOCTORS. 181 

lived west of the Alleghanies, prescribed Vichy with 
Lithia, ordered a month at Saratoga, although it was a 
little late in the season, and then taking his twenty-five 
dollars with a slightly wearied air, as though he had 
pocketed a dozen or more like it that morning, and was 
tired of the process, prepared to take his leave. 

*^ You'll get over it, Mr. Oldmixon ; the provocation 
was great, I admit ; but a man of your strength of will 
generally masters these d^sagrdments. " 

*' Yes, doctor, I suppose so ; but I never before felt 
80 strong a desire to kill a man as I did to kill that 
wretch. If it had not been for the law and the per- 
sonal inconvenience to myseM of a trial, as well as the 
disgrace to my nephew to have his uncle hanged, I 
should have poisoned his wine on the spot. 1 had no 
conscientious scruples on the subject — none whatever. 
Besides, I'm born with it in me. Lewes says, and he isn't 
the only one that's said the same thing, that murder, 
like talent, seems occasionally to run in families. It runs 
in ours, though we haven't always got our deserts for 
yielding to the inclination." 

The doctor laughed, said he didn't think it necessary 
to call again, and then, after a few words of gossip, took 
his leave. 

^' Now, he's something like a physician !" exclaimed 
Mr. Oldmixon. " What confidence in himself I What 
aplomb ! Did you ever see anything grander than the 
poise of his head ! To compare Milledge and Jimnay 
is worse than comparing Hyperion to a Satyr. It's more 
like pitting Apollo against a sanctified but dilapidated 
ghoul. I suppose I'll either die now or get well. 1 have 
had my due allowance of doctors. 



182 MB. OLDMIXON. 

*Se6 one physician, like a Soulier plies, 
The patient lingers and by inches dies. 
Bat two physicians, like a pair of oars, 
Waft him more swiftly to the Stygian shores/ 

*' How much did you give him, Jack ?" 

*' Twenty-five dollars." 

^' And cheap at the money. 1 feel better already. 
Won't you be kind enough to ring that bell for my man ; 
I think I'll get up, and to-morrow I'll go to Saratoga. 
I'm sorry I didn't kill that fellow Partridge," he added, 
after a few minutes' silence. ** So many of my ancestors 
were hanged, or otherwise executed, that I ought to have 
done it, if only for the sake of the family. There hasn't 
been an Oldmixon killed now for nearly a hundred years, 
and you and that rascal Hogarth and myself are the only 
ones left to maintain the honor of the race. I don't 
suppose you'll be hanged. I've missed the best chance 
I ever had in my life, and shall probably never get 
another, so that the only one left to preserve the family 
from sinking into oblivion is Hogarth. Well, I'm in- 
clined to think he'll do his duty in this respect." 

Mr. Oldmixon went to Saratoga, and was absent dur- 
ing the whole period that Jack was painting his picture 
of the taxidermists in Mr. Henschel's back room. He 
could not make up his mind to stay longer than ten 
days, notwithstanding Dr. Milledge had so strenuously 
insisted upon a month. At that season of the year 
Saratoga was not a desirable residence for anybody, much 
less for a man like Mr. Oldmixon, who consulted his 
comfort in everything he did, and who could find few 
of the, to him, necessaries of life in the plain boarding- 
house at which he put up at the Springs. But he walked 
out to the Geyser every morning, and drank a half a 



A PAIR OF DOOTOBS. 183 

dozen tumblers of the water of that remarkable spring 
during each day. And then, having imbibed sixty glasses 
of the health-giving liquid, he came to the conclusion 
that the latent gout, to which Dr. Milledge had aficribed 
his symptoms, was thoroughly washed out of his blood, 
and that it would be a very proper thing for him to re- 
turn to New York, and begin over again. Besides, he 
must tell Jack about the will and the conditions he had 
imposed. 

In the mean time Jack had had his easel carried to 
Mr. Henschel's house and set up in the workshop, and 
here he spent an hour every day at work on the picture, 
which he had determined should, more than any other, be 
representative of his peculiar style. He had no difficulty 
in arranging the living and inert materiel to the best ad- 
vantage, and in this was glad enough to avail himself of 
Barbara's artistic instinct and keen sense of color and 
form. These hours had been the pleasantest of his life, 
and each one had passed with the girl more firmly placed 
in his heart than before, so that when they had come to 
an end, he was over head and ears in love, and ready to 
sacrifice all his prospects in life for the sake of Barbara 
Henschel. 

Before meeting with her, Jack had always declared, 
when questioned on the subject, that he should never 
marry, and had insisted, with great vehemence, that 
matrimony and art in its highest regions were absolutely 
incompatible. ^' It's a difficult thing for a man to be- 
come a great artist," he said one night to half a dozen 
congenial companions, sitting with him on the piazza at 
the Long Beach Hotel, ^' with everything in his favor, 
and when he can entirely abstract himself, as occasion re- 
quires, from all the little wearying affairs of life. But 



184 MB. OLDMIXON. 

for a married man I look upon the thing as almost an 
impossibility. The great artists that have been married 
are few, and they were such geniuses that no antago- 
nistic circumstances could have kept them from rising. 
"What I say, however, doesn't apply to geniuses. They 
are quite an exceptional class ; but no one, I think, will 
contend that a genius makes a good husband. He'll 
stick to his art, and let his wife and children go. An 
ordinary fellow, however, like any of us, with a moder- 
ate talent for art and sufficient love for it to cause him to 
devote himself to it assiduously enough to make himself 
a good reputation, when he marries is going to give 
it up, and tag on to the petticoats. He can't help him- 
self. His heart isn't big enough for both, and the 
woman wins. 

*' That's all humbug !" said Danforth, a promising 
young painter, who was known to be on the eve of mar- 
riage with a very beautiful girl. Look at Eubens, and 
Murillo, and Titian, and Tintoretto, and—" 

''And look at Michael Angelo, Leonardo, Kaphael, 
and a dozen others 1 might mention," interrupted Jack. 
'' Besides, the men you mention were geniuses, and they 
all made bad husbands." 

'' How do you know they did ?" demanded Danforth. 
'' That's an assumption on your part for which there's 
no warrant." 

'' Read their lives, my boy, and you'll find out. Now, 
to come nearer home, there's Pickett. Two years ago 
no one in this country bid fairer to reach the top of the 
ladder of fame than Pickett. He had done some of the 
best work that's been done in twenty years anywhere. 
Well, he got married, and what is he now ? He sent a ■ 
picture to the Salon last year, and they wouldn't hang it j 



A PAIB OF D0CT0R8. 185 

and he sent one to the Academy this year, and they de- 
clined to put it on the walls. 1 met him driving in the 
Park a few days ago with his wife, two babies, and a 
nurse, actually looking idiotically happy. It's all very 
well for a fellow that goes in for that sort of thing, but 
you can't serve God and Mammon, and I don't propose 
to try." 

They all laughed at this tirade, and Jack felt that de- 
gree of elation that every man feels when he has made a 
point and subdued his polemical adversaries. 

But after once seeing Barbara Henschel, his opinions 
began to waver, and before he had finished his sittings 
in the workshop they had undergone a complete change, 
and he would have been willing to renounce art forever, 
had the sacrifice been necessary to gain her love. He 
had discovered not only that she was beautiful — he had 
found that out on the first day he had met her — but he 
saw every hour that he passed in her presence some 
new facial expression or mental characteristic that he 
had not noticed before, and that enraptured him to a 
degree that when he got home made him feel ashamed 
of himself for his susceptibility. Finally the picture 
was done, so far as it could be completed there, though 
there were still many days of delicate touchings and re- 
touchings necessary before it would be fit to go out of 
his hands, and there would no longer be any excuse for 
making the daily visits that had been a source of pleas- 
ure beyond any that he had yet experienced. 

Nevertheless, when he came nearly to the end of the 
last sitting that Barbara was giving him, and looked 
back over the past week, he could not conscientiously 
say that he had any cause for self -congratulation. She 
had always treated him with civility — ^indeed, even with 



•^■^•^. 



**. 



r% f"'^ 



186 ME. OLDMIXOir. 

friendliness, but she had never shown the least sign of 
any particular feeling for him, although she must have 
noticed from his looks, his manner, his speech, that she 
was fast becoming of more than passing interest to him. 
Women have it in their power, as Jack very well knew, 
though he had never had an aflfair of the heart before, 
to let a man see whether they care for him or not, and 
that without compromising themselves in the slightest 
degree. There are a thousand ways of doing this. It 
may be a look, an action, a phase of manner, a word, 
even an accent, a little thing of no consequence in itself, 
one that may, without reproach, be disavowed should 
occasion require, and that is of pregnant meaning when 
spoken by a woman to the man she loves. Jack had 
looked for some such token from Barbara, but he had 
looked in vain. There had been nothing — ^absolutely 
nothing — that he could bring back as a jpoint d^appui 
for the love that had taken him captive. 

This was his last day, and what excuse could he make 
for coming again ? That was the question that occupied 
his mind just then. Barbara was sitting at her work- 
bench in the attitude in which he had placed her in his 
picture, and he was trying to improve the conception of 
her face that he had transferred to the. canvas. He 
soon found, however, that his first idea — the one that 
had come from the inspiration of the moment — ^was 
more truthful than any he could elaborate by subse- 
quent study, and that there was really nothing more 
to do. 

'^ I won't keep you any longer, Miss Henschel," he 
said ; '^ by this, as it now is, I'll stand or fall. You have 
been very good to me and very patient, and I thank you ' 
from the bottom of my heart. I'll send for these thingg. 

.■*■■" 



A PAIB OF BOCTOES. 187 

to-morrow morning, and I'll put on the finishing touches 
at my leisure. " 

Barbara had not yet seen the picture. Jack had begged 
her not to look at it till he gave her leave, and she had 
scrupulously respected his wish. Every day when he 
went away he had covered the canvas with a thick linen 
cloth, and she had never once raised even a corner, 
though she had felt no small degree of curiosity to see 
what had been made of her. 

But now she thought the time had come for her to 
take a look, even if work still remained to be done on it ; 
so after telling Jack that it had been no trouble to her to 
sit for him, and that she was glad to have been the means 
of helping him to a subject, she ventured to ask if she 
might see the picture before it was taken away. 

*' 1 don't see why you shouldn't do anything you like 
with it," responded Jack, magnanimously. ^'If it 
hadn't been for you there would have been no picture, 
and all there is in it that's worth looking at is your 
image and — and — your father's, of course. He has a 
grand old face, and I've given special attention to bring- 
ing out all its strong points. Certainly you shall see it. 
Miss Henschel. Come round here. Wait a moment 
till I get it in a little better light. That's it ; now stand 
right here." 

Barbara moved round to the front, after Jack had ad- 
justed the easel according to his notion, and looked at 
the picture. It represented the workshop with entire 
fidelity ; somewhat in the background sat Mr. Henschel, 
at work at a magnificent specimen of the mountain-sheep, 
which looked as though it were standing on one of its 
native Rocky Mountain crags. All the details of the 
old .{nan's face and figure had been elaborated with tho 






ih ^ 



188 MR. OLDMIXON. 

utmost minnteness, and Barbara gazed at the portrait 
without seeing more than the dim outline of her own, 
so thoroughly impressed was she with the life-like repre- 
sentation that the painter had made of her father. Then 
she slowly turned her eyes to what Jack had intended 
should be the chief feature of his picture — the likeness 
of herself. He had painted her sitting at the work -bench 
and moulding into form the ears of the silver fox which 
stood before her. The attitude was full of grace ; her 
fingers seemed to play about the delicate ears of the 
animal, touching them as airily, as discriminatingly, and 
yet as firmly as though the task were one of loving care, 
requiring all the skill and attention of the worker. The 
head was thrown slightly back, and as the work-bench 
was rather low, the eyes were a little cast down ; but 
their expression was one of infinite softness, almost ten- 
derness, and there was just the least gleam of a smile 
around the comers of the mouth, that appeared to show 
that she was well pleased with what she had accom- 
plished, and that gave an aspect of surpassing beauty to 
the face. 

Barbara looked at it in silence ; she had never thought 
herself beautiful ; but this girl in the picture was lovely 
beyond any woman she had ever seen before. She could 
not believe it resembled her, and hence she was disposed 
at first to think that the artist had flattered her, or else 
that he had altogether failed to catch the likeness. 

But as she contemplated the painting more attentively, 
and studied the portrait with greater thoroughness, she 
began to recognize the fact that it was like her, that the 
artist had caught an expression that she had at times seen 
on her face, and that he had succeeded in transferring it to 

the canvas with a truthfulness and a skill that struck,her 

^. #n^ •■■■■• 



A PAIE OF DOCTORS. 189 

BS being marvellous, while, at the same time, it gave her 
infinite pleasure. Surprise and delight were on her face 
as she turned to Jack, who had all the time been waiting 
and wishing that by some supernatural power, as there 
was no other way of doing it, he could, at once, paint 
her as she then looked. 

*' O Mr. Oldmixon I" she exclaimed, *'is it possible 
I look Kke that ?" 

**Not always. Miss Henschel," replied Jack, laugh- 
ing ; " but sometimes you do. '* I tried to get you at 
your best, and I thought till just now that I had suc- 
ceeded ; but now I know that your face is capable of 
lovelier expressions than the one I captured. I beg 
your pardon," he continued, seeing that Barbara was 
blushing deeply ; '' 1 did not intend to descend to the 
triviality of paying you a compliment on your personal 
appearance ; I would have no right to take such a liberty. 
1 was speaking altogether from an artistic standpoint, 
and was thinking of you, not as Miss Barbara Henschel, 
who has been kind enough to do me the greatest favor I 
have ever received, but as the model from whom I have 
derived whatever inspiration guided my brain and hand." 

'' And father," said Barbara, shifting the subject of 
conversation as soon as she could ; ^^ you have made 
an admirable likeness of him. There is not a feature of 
his face that is not truthfully brought out, and the ex- 
pression is exactly that that is always present when he is 
greatly interested; Oh, yes, you hasre made an admir- 
able hkeness of him I He wiU be delighted, I know. I 
had no idea that you would succeed so well with the 
animals," she continued, after she had minutely exam- 
ined the representations of the silver fox, the mountain 
sheep, and two or three others of less importance that Jack 



.-.t 



190 MB, OLDMIXON. 

had introduced. '^ I think yon have had the exact idea 
in regard to them that you ought to have had. I was 
afraid that you would make them too life-like, and that, 
therefore, it might be thought that you were painting 
them from nature ; but every person can see that these- 
are mounted specimens. " 

'' You have hit upon the one point, after that of get- 
ting your likeness, that gave me the most trouble, and 
my difficulty came from the fact that your mounting is 
so perfect, that it is almost the exact counterpart of 
nature. Of course I had to represent the work of the 
taxidermists, and not live animals, and I found it a tough 
piece of work to steer so as to avoid the Scylla of natur- 
alism, and yet not run into the Charybdis of artificiality. 
Your opinion that I have succeeded gives me every 
assurance I could desire. Here, at least. Miss Henschel, 
I may compliment you, and say, that there is no one I 
know whose judgment in such a matter is as good as 
yours." 

So they talked, and finally Mr. Henschel came in ; 
and Jack, declaring that at last there was an opportunity 
for him to get an unbiassed judgment of his portrait of 
Barbara, called upon the old man for his opinion. 

Mr. Henschel was no mean judge of such matters. 
He had seen nearly all the famous pictures of Europe, 
and had formed ideas of composition and coloring that 
were based upon a knowledge of the manner in which 
they had been treated by the greatest masters that the 
world had known. One glance at Jack's picture was 
sufficient to engage his attention, and to keep it engaged 
till he had carefully studied it in all its details. 

'^ It's a fine picture, Mr. Oldmixon," he said, at last ; 
'^ it's enough to make the reputation of any painter. It 



A PAIR OF BOCTOBS. 191 

puts me in mind of one of those Flemish interiors, of 
which Teniers has given us so many striking examples. 
And you've got the very look on Barbara's face that I 
would rather see there than any other. It's the best 
you've got, my dear," turning to address his daughter, 
and finding, to his surprise, that she had disappeared. 
'' Ah well I it's perhaps better that she should not hear 
too many praiseful speeches," he continued. " You've 
never painted as beautiful a face as that before, have you, 
Mr. Oldmixon?". . 

'' Never !" exclaimed Jack, enthusiastically. '* I can 
say to you, Mr. Henschel, what I could not say to her — 
it's the loveliest face I ever saw." 

'^ Ay, and not only her face 1 Look at the sheen on 
that hair. Isn't it what you might tliink molten gold 
would look like with the sunlight gleaming on it ? And 
the poise of the head ! How gracefully she has thrown 
it back, and turned it a little to one side, while she looks 
critically at the work she is doing, and the hands and the 
arms from which the loose sleeves have fallen back, just 
far enough to show the delicate wrists passing almost 
imperceptibly into the fulness that marks where the 
muscles^ are that move her slender fingers. But," he 
continued, with a smile, " I am talking like an old man, 
and I'm afraid a little too much like an anatomist. I 
don't think I ever talked that way about my girl before, 
and, in fact, I forgot in my admiration of the picture 
that it was my daughter 1 was speaking of. Set it down 
to the picture, not to her ; but it's wonderfully like her, 
Mr. Oldmixon." 

Jack was now satisfied ; so throwing the cover over the 
picture, he began gathering his property together into 
one place. 



192 MB. OLDHIXOK. 

'' I sliall send for all this to-morrow, Mr. Henscliel,'' 
he said, '' and then I shall cease to trouble you." 

'' Oh, it's been no trouble I You've done us a great 
honor in making us the subject of your picture, and if 
there's anything I can do for you, I hope you'll let me 
know. Some time or other you might want a rare animal 
for a model, and I am in the way of getting such things.' ' 

'' Thanks ; I shall certainly avail myself of your Idnd- 
ness should occasion require, and in the mean time I 
have a favor to ask of you." 

'' You've only to mention it." 

'* Let me come here occasionally to talk to you and 
your daughter while you are at your work. You both 
know so much more than I do of many things that I 
want to know, that I trust you will not refuse me the 
opportunity of learning them." 

'^ Ay, ay, we'll both be glad to see you. But we'll 
not be here long now ; I have nearly completed all the 
arrangements for selUng the business and moving to a 
little farm I've just bought near New Eoclielle and 
Mamaroneck." 

^' You are going away ?" 

y Yes ; but not far. I gave Barbara a month to think 
of it, but she only took a week, and then she told me 
she was ready to go." 

" And you will no longer be taxidermists ?" 

"Not for more than a week or so longer; but my 
daughter is going to become a sculptor. Mr. Maurice 
is to be her instructor. Do you know him ?" 

" Oh, yes ; every one knows Maurice ; he is the most 
competent man for the work of an instructor in sculpture 
that there is in the city." 

Then you can, perhaps, come out to see us some 



(( 



A PAIR OF DOCTORS. 193 

day, and look around our little place, or take a sail on 
the Sound." 

" I should be delighted." 

^'Tes," said Barbara, entering the room at the 
moment, ^' you will have to come, if it's only to tell us 
how you caught the silver fox." 
9 



CHAPTER XIIL 

A TENDEB-HEAETED HUSBAND. 

Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon, whom we left reflecting upon 
a few plain-spoken words from his wife, was not one of 
those exceptional persons that believe in the eflScacy of 
soft answers in turning away wrath. It was his system 
not so much to divert angry feelings as to subdue them, 
and he effected his purpose, not only by the use of signifi- 
cant and energetically expressed language, but by the 
employment of such additional measures iij the way of 
physical force as his experience had taught him were 
likely to promote peace by silencing his adversaries. 

After Mrs. Hogarth Oldmixon had delivered herself 
of the sharp little speech recorded in a previous chapter, 
her husband sat for a moment or two without making any 
response, either by word or deed. Then he very deliber- 
ately got up, locked the door, and put the key into his 
pocket. Then he came to where his wife was sitting 
rocking herself with great energy backward and forward 
in a chair, that, every time it reached its full extent of 
inclination in either direction, looked as though it would 
topple over and land its occupant on the floor. He stood 
before her with his legs wide apart and his hands ram- 
med down into the depths of his trousers pockets, and 
having regarded her with a look of which low cunning 
and superciliousness were strong features, as long as he 
thought desirable under the circumstances, he reached out 



A TENDEE-HEABTED HUSBAND. 195 

both hands as though to seize her by the neck and shoul- 
ders as the initial step of his active proceedings. Sud- 
denly, however, as if influenced by some other thought, 
he dropped his arms, and turning away, strode to one of 
the windows and looked out on the deserted street, down 
which torrents of water were still rushing. 

While Mr. Hogarth was looking at her with his mixed 
expressions of malicious astuteness and contempt, Mrs. 
Hogarth continued to rock herself violently, as though the 
chief object of her life was to get through a certain 
amount of the oscillatory exercise in a certain time. She 
never raised her eyes to her husband's face, though it can- 
not be said that she quailed before him. If she had seen 
the look of devilish malice on his countenance she might 
have felt some qualms of fear, and have kept a silent 
tongue in her head during the rest of the interview. But 
she was one of those women that never know when they 
are well oflf , and who, moreover, know so little of the male 
part of the human race that they are sure to misinterpret 
any action not of the most positively demonstrative char- 
acter. They are like the woman who told me upon one 
occasion that she never knew her husband was in earnest 
about anything till he had kicked her two or three times, 
to prove his sincerity. 

As Mr. Hogarth went toward the window, Mrs. Ho- 
garth raised her eyes, and gave a withering glance at his 
retreating form. Then the word " coward " came hiss- 
ingly from her lips ; and as this met with no response she 
repeated it, with the addition of the word " bully I" 
Still meeting with no reciprocity, she went still farther. 
*' Coward, bully, and liar !" she said, and then apparently 
reaching the conclusion that she had, for that occasion at 
least, exhausted her powers of invective, she threw herself 



196 ME. OLDMLXOK. 

back in her chair, and resumed the rocking process, which 
had been temporarily interrupted. 

But she was not to be left to pursue this innocent, 
if ungraceful ezercise without interruption. Whether 
or not the word ^'liar" is more aggravating when ap- 
plied to a person than ''coward" or "bully," or both 
combined, may never be definitely determined for man- 
kind at large ; but it certainly appeared to be the case, 
either that Mr. Hogarth regarded it as more vitaperative 
in itself, or, like the last straw that broke the camePs back, 
it was cumxdative, and hence added just the necessaiy 
force required to convert the gentleman to whom it was 
addressed from a comparatively peaceable man into one 
in whom rage had taken the place of reason. At the word 
"coward" his fingers had moved spasmodically; at 
"bully" his face had twitched and his eyes had glared ; 
but there did not appear to be any indication that Mr. 
Hogarth's emotional disturbance would carry him beyond 
the point of manifesting these, in themselves harmless 
muscular motions. But at the word "liar" he started, 
turned, and with one bound reached the chair in which 
his wife was rocking herself. To seize her around the 
waist and to carry her to the bed in the next room were 
acts that were done in an instant. She had at first been 
too much astonished to cry out ; but now she began to 
make attempts to shout, which, however, were promptly 
rendered abortive by her husband cramming his handker- 
chief into her mouth. He threw her on the bed with all 
the strength of which he was master, and then taking the 
pillow, was proceeding to press it on her face, but her 
struggles were of so violent a character that he could not 
succeed all at once in accomplishing his object. She 
fought with her hands ; she fought with her feet ; and she 



A TENDER-HEAETED HUSBAND. 197 

twisted her body in all directions with such a degree of 
agility that he was for a time baffled. She saw that 
he meant to kill her. His eyes were bloodshot and star- 
ing, his face was of a livid hue, his lips were retracted 
80 as to show his teeth, and he uttered threats and denun- 
ciations — incoherently, it is true, but, nevertheless, with 
sufficient distinctness for her to understand that he in- 
tended to take her life. He was a man of great physical 
strength, and the contest, with everything in her favor, 
would have been only a question of time. As it was, 
with her on the bed and he standing over her and bring- 
ing the weight of his body to act in conjunction with his 
strong arms, her chance was slim. Gradually he obtained 
more fixedness for the pillow, and at last he got it over 
her face, and held it there, while her arms and legs twitch- 
ed convulsively and her breast heaved in the ineflfectual 
eflFort to get a breath of air. Then all was still — all 
except his own hurried breathing and the pulsation of 
his heart, the sound of which organ struck with a dull, 
muffled thump upon his ears, and jarred his body as a 
laboriously-working machine jars the house in which it 
is lodged. 

He stood by the side of the bed for a few moments, as 
if endeavoring to collect his thoughts. Then he took 
away the pillow from the face of his wife, and minutely 
inspected her countenance. There was no distortion of 
the features, and after he had adjusted the limbs and 
smoothed her clothing and the bed, she looked for all the 
world as though she were asleep. He felt her pulse, then 
placed his hand over her heart, then watched closely for 
the slightest motion of her chest. Yes, she might look 
as though she were asleep, but for all that she was dead, 
and he had killed her. 



198 MR. OLDMIXON. 

Now, strange as it may seem, lie had not at first intend- 
ed to kill her. He had been irritated beyond measure 
by her taunts and abuse, and he had purposed giving her 
a taste of his power by carrying her to the bed, and then, 
tying her hand and foot, to leave her there till it should 
suit his pleasure to release her. But her attempts to 
scream and her sturdy resistance had still f mi;her de- 
veloped the diabolical spirit that he possessed, and then he 
had been carried far beyond his original design. As she 
resisted, he attacked ; as she endeavored to escape, he made 
more determined efforts to subdue her, until finally the 
distinct pm'pose of ridding himself of what he considered 
was a bad bargain came suddenly into his mind. 

It was not a spontaneous thought, neither was it one de- 
veloped by the opposition he had met from her struggle 
for life ; but it was evolved out of the idea that she was in 
some way or other the cause of his uncle's displeasure with 
him. At first this was only the dimmest kind of an im- 
pression, but in a few seconds — the brain works with won- 
derful celerity at such times — it had become an over- 
whelming conception of such intense distinctness that he 
imagined that he could see and hear his uncle denounc- 
ing him for having married Camilla White. Then his 
resolution was taken. He would kill her now that he 
had the chance, and rid himself forever of the one that 
stood between him and wealth. 

He was not the man to feel remorse for anv act that 
he might commit, especially when it was one like this, that 
apparently was going to work to his advantage ; but he 
none the less felt the danger that he had incurred and the 
necessity that existed for making such an arrangement of 
matters as would divert all shadow of suspicion from 
himself. He had already put the corpse and its surround- 



A TENDEE-HEAETED HUSBAin>. 199 

ings into a state of order ; to wash his face and hands, 
to brush his hair, and to set his clothing to rights were 
small matters, but they had a great effect in causing him 
to look calm and comfortable. Indeed, as he glanced at 
himself in the glass, he could not discover a trace of the 
severe contest through which he had just passed ; and cer- 
tainly no one examining his countenance, with all the 
trained skill of a physiognomical expert, would have sus- 
pected that he had, not half an hour before, killed his 
wife. 

Hogarth Oldmixon was a man of ample resources, es- 
pecially when they were to be exercised for his own pro- 
tection. In the first place, he had that command of himself 
so long as his reason was not obscured or overwhelmed 
by furious rage, as it had been just now, that enabled 
him to preserve a calm exterior under all kinds of trying 
circumstances ; and in the next, he was ready, with well- 
constructed stories that were amply sufiicient to explain 
any incongruous acts that he might have committed, and 
that were so plausible, coherent, and systematic in all their 
details, that no one hearing them was likely to suspect 
that he had done anything that he ought not to have done. 
His great danger was his ungovernable temper ; for 
when that was excited he was apt to talk with an utter dis- 
iregard to his own welfare and with a tendency to re- 
veal circumstances that in his rational state he would have 
died rather than confess. 

He knew the advantage in circumstances such as those 
that now surrounded him of attention to what were appar- 
ently small things ; so, after taking another look at the 
corpse, to see that everything connected with it was exact- 
ly as he intended it to be, he drew on his gloves, brushed 
his hat, put a clean white linen handkerchief into the 



200 HB. OLDMIXOK. 

breast-pocket of his coat, and then taking his cane, nn* 
locked the door, leaving the key on the inside, and then 
proceeded down-stairs to the office. He went to the door, 
and looking out, pretended to be inspecting the state of 
the weather. 

" I think it is going to clear,' ' he said to the clerk be- 
hind the counter. '' Mrs. Oldmixon is very anxious to 
visit the Naval School, and to see something of the city. 
Will you be kind enough to order a carriage for five 
o'clock ? It is now just four," looking at his watch as he 
spoke the last words. 

" Will you have a close or an open carriage ?" said the 
clerk. 

'' Which do you think would be best i Suppose you 
send up and ask Mrs. Oldmixon which she would prefer." 

" It is certainly going to clear," said the clerk ; *^ the 
blue sky is showing itself now off there in the west, and 
in an hour it will be as bright as can be." 

''Well then, never mind sending to Mrs. Oldmixon. 
I'll take the responsibility of ordering an open carriage. 
In the mean time I'll take a walk. Which is the way to 
the State House ?" 

The clerk pointed out the direction, and Hogarth was 
soon walking around the State House circle, and thinking 
to himself what a bold stroke that was to invite the clerk 
to send up to Mrs. Oldmixon, when, if he had done so, 
the fact of her death would have been at once discovered. 
He smiled as he thought of the occurrence. " I saw 
there was no servant about," he said, " and that it would 
be some trouble for him to get one. Besides, they charge 
more for open carriages than they do for close ones. It 
was a pretty safe move, and it will do me an infinite de- 
gree of good in about an hour from now." 



A TENDER-HEARTED HUSBAND. 201 

Having gone around the circle, he walked down a street 
that led to the water, and then across to the main street, 
upon which the hotel stood. His chief object now was 
to occupy the time till the carriage arrived at the door, 
and it became necessary to notify his wife to get ready 
for her drive. He was aware that many persons in situa- 
tions similar to his betray themselves by their excessive 
anxiety not to appear discomposed, and by a meddlesome- 
ness with matters that are working well, and that should 
therefore be let alone. He was not one to wreck him- 
self on any such shoals as these. He had, ever since he 
had left the hotel, been thinking over the probable course 
that an average man would pursue if he had ordered a 
carriage for a live wife, as he had ordered one for a dead 
wife. He was trying to find out exactly what the bold- 
ness of innocence would prompt a man to do, and having, 
without much difficulty — for his knowledge of human 
nature was great — arrived at a definite conclusion on 
this point, he had nothing further to accomplish than to 
walk about the place as openly as possible till the hour 
for returning to the hotel came round. "While it was no 
part of his plan to do things for the purpose of disarming 
suspicion, he thought it would not be amiss for him to 
enter one or two shops and to purchase some trifiing arti- 
cle in each. It would give the occupants an opportunity 
for noting his calm and equable manner, and that might 
be of importance to him. He could imagine them say- 
ing to each other, 

^' Just think, that while he was in here buying that 

tooth-brush — and as pleasant a man as ever came into the 

store — his poor wife was lying dead in her bed at the City 

Hotel. He would have looked very differently, I guess, 
9* 



202 MB. OLDMIXON. 

if he could have known that his bride had gone to another 
world ;"or, 

" Poor fellow I little did he know when he was pick- 
ing out that soap for her that she was gone to where the 
soul is cleansed [the Annapolitans are a pious people] of 
all its impurities by the blood of the Lamb, that washes 
whiter than soap. How particular he was to get violet ! 
It was her favorite perfume, he said.'' 

That was about the way they would talk, he supposed, 
and the result showed how profound was his knowledge 
of the way of the world. 

He walked around the church circle, and then out tow- 
ard St. John's College, and then turning to the east, 
reached a street that took him to the State House Circle 
again. He looked at his watch. It was a quarter of five. 
It was time for him to return and face the terrible ordeal 
that had within it perhaps the potentiality of sending him 
to the gallows. Pshaw ! That was impossible ! 

As he entered the hotel lie saw that a carriage, pre- 
sumably the one he had ordered, was at the door. He 
crossed the hall on his way to the staircase in full view 
of the clerk, who was standing behind the counter talk- 
ing to one of the servants of the house. 

'' Is that my carriage ?" he inquired. 

'' Yes, sir," answered the clerk ; ^' shall 1 send up for 
Mrs. Oldmixon ?" 

There was a hesitation of the fraction of a second be- 
fore Hogarth answered. A less bold or a less shrewd 
man would have jumped at the chance ofiEered of having 
the awful discovery made for him that a visit to the room 
above must necessarily reveal. But Hogarth was bold 
and he was shrewd. He reflected that it would be more 
in accordance with the fitness of things that a newly mar- 



A TENDEE-HEARTED HUSBAND. 203 

ried man would, under the circumstances, after having 
been absent an hour, go himself to inform his wife that 
he had arranged for a drive, and that the carriage was at 
the door. At the same time, he thought that it would 
be well that some one should be present when the discov- 
ery of the dead body was made, and it took only an in- 
stant for him to arrange in his mind for that object. 

'' No,' ' he replied ; " I will go up for her myself. I 
wish, however, you would send a man to unstrap a trunk 
that I want to get at. " 

'^ Go with the gentleman, Tom." 

Hogarth ascended the steps, followed by Tom, a big, 
good-natured negro, who, like his people generally, was 
ready to enter into conversation with strangers. 

*' I guess ' Naplis ' ain't as big as New York," he said. 
*^ It's growed aheap, though, since they brought 'the 
Yard' here." 

" No, it's not so large as New York," answered Ho- 
garth, in his sua vest tones. " What's the best drive about 
here, Tom?" he inquired, determining to make friends 
with the man. 

"JV^ell, everybody goes down to Hhe Yard.' And 
then there's the hay-scales — 'most everybody goes to see 
them scales," 

By this time they were at the door of Hogarth's room — 
the one that he and his wife had used as a sitting-room. 
He turned the knob and entered, followed by Tom. The 
door between the two rooms was closed. 

'' There's the trunk, Tom," he said, pointing to it. 
'^ The tongue of one of the buckles seems to have got 
bent in some way or other, and as you're stronger than 
1 am, perhaps you can straighten it." 

*^ I never seen the trunk yet dis chile couldn't open. 



204 HB. OLDMIXON. 

Dat is, of course," he added, laaghing, ^Mf I had the 
key." 

He bent over it, and while he was busy fumbling at 
the strap, Hogarth opened the door between that room 
and the one in which lay the corpse of his wife, Tes, 
there it was, just as he had left it. He stood for a mo- 
ment looking at it, and then he hurriedly crossed the floor 
to the bed. The man in the next room could have seen 
every action, had he turned aroifnd. Hogarth did not 
know whether he was looking or not, but he hoped he 
was, and he felt quite sure that he was, knowing, as he 
did, the curiosity of the negro. At any rate, his actions 
were all based upon the presumption that he was observed, 
and hence he intended that they should be as nearly as 
possible such as his knowledge of human nature had 
taught him would be natural under the circumstances in 
which he was apparently placed. 

" Milly !** he said, as though addressing his sleeping 
wife. * * Milly ! ' * he repeated, in a somewhat louder voice. 
** Milly !" again, still louder, accompanied with a gentle 
shake of the shoulders of the dead woman. 

Then he placed his anus under the body and raised it 
up in the bed. '* Milly ! Milly !" he cried. Then to 
the man who had been looking and listening all the time : 
* * My God, something has happened ! Run at once, and 
tell them to send for a doctor !** 

Tom gave one good look in through the door. He saw 
Hogarth supporting the form of his wife with one hand, 
while he rubbed her forehead with the other, and spoke 
to her in the tenderest words a man can use. Then he 
mshed down-stairs at full speed, telling a couple of cham- 
bermaids he met on the way to go in there to No. 
22, and help the gentleman. ** His wife's fainted, 1 



A TEISDER-HEAETED HUSBAND. 205 

guess, or sometliin' o' that sort's happened." Then 
shouting out to the clerk that something was the matter 
in No. 22, he dashed across the street to summon Dr. 
Ridings. 

The clerk was as dignified an individual as a hotel-clerk 
ought to be. It was against his principles to show haste, 
or even undue interest, in anything that he did ; but Tom's 
manner, as well as his words and the screams that reached 
his ears from up-stairs, told him that something serious 
had occurred, and that the honor of the house required 
that he should make himself personally acquainted with 
the circumstances. He therefore — and he could not re- 
call that he had ever done the like before in all his life — 
mounted the stairs two at a time, and at the door of No, 
22 was met by Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon, who, as pale as 
death, gasped out : 

* * A doctor ! for God's sake, a doctor ! Is there no phy- 
sician to be had for love or money ?" 

** What's the matter ?" said the clerk. "I've sent for 
a doctor. ' ' He entered the room as he spoke. The wom- 
en in the next apartment had ceased screaming, but 
they were busy rubbing the hands of the limp body that 
lay on the bed. 

** O Mr. Campbell !" said one of them, ** she's quite 
dead. She must have been dead an hour, for she's get- 
ting cold." 

All this time Hogarth was walking the room wringing 
his hands, and ejaculating every moment expressions 
that were well calculated to show the depth of his 
grief. 

** So young," he said, approaching the bed, while tears 
— real tears — ran down his cheeks, " and so happy, and 
to be taken off in this way I My God, I do not understand 



206 HR. OLDMIXOK. 

it. I left her an liour ago well and joyous. I return to 
find her dead. Oh, it is hard, very hard !" 

^' Calm yourself, Mr. Oldmixon," said the clerk, who 
had satisfied himself that Mrs. Oldmixon was really dead. 
'^ These things are hard to bear, but — '' 

^'Hard to bear!" exclaimed Hogarth, passionately^ 
throwing himself across the dead body of his wife — 
^'thia is impossible to be borne. Oh, why was 1 not 
also taken ? Milly, my darling ! are you really dead ? So 
young ! so lovely ! My wife ! my wife ! come back to me I 
oh, come back !" 

*'Mr. Oldmixon," said the clerk, moved to tears by 
the unrestrained grief of the afflicted husband, " there 
is the doctor" — as that gentleman entered the room, fol- 
lowed by Tom — ^' perhaps there may still be a spark of 
life, and it may not yet be too late to revive her." 

The doctor, without speaking, approached the bed, 
while Mr. Campbell gently raised Hogarth from the dead 
body that he was passionately embracing, and led him 
into the next room. 

It did not take the physician long to arrive at an opin- 
ion relative to the case to which he had been called, al- 
though Tom's information had not led him to expect one 
of such great gravity. Mrs. Oldmixon was dead. The 
only thing he had to do was to ascertain, if possible, the 
cause of her death, and then to give the certificate for 
burial or removal from the city, as might be desired. 
The authorities in small towns, where crimes of violence 
are less common than they are in the large cities, are not 
so strict in such matters as they ought to be, and the 
doctor, who disliked making a fuss when it could be 
avoided, hoped that there would be enough of a history 
of the case for him to base an opinion on without his be- 



A TEKDER-HEARTED HUSBAND. 207 

ing obliged to resort to a post-mortem examination or a 
coroner's inquest. 

''This is a very sad event," he said, going over to 
where Hogarth sat, under the soothing admonitions of 
Mr. Campbell, " and a very sudden one, too. Will you 
try and calm yourself, Mr. Oldmixon, snflSciently to give 
me an account of the event, so far as your knowledge ex- 
tends ?" 

Hogarth at these words looked wildly around him for 
a moment, as though endeavoring to ascertain where he 
was, and then having apparently settled his mind on the 
point, said : 

" I left her at four o'clock in perfect health ; I returned 
at five to find her dead. That is all I know." He 
buried his face in his hands when he had said these words, 
and sobbed as though his heart were broken. 

'' Had she been complaining of pain in her head or 
chest?" inquired the doctor, whose thoughts were run- 
ning in the direction of brain or heart disease. 

Hogarth shook his head. ''No," he said, after wait- 
ing a moment, as though to give effect to the double de- 
nial, " she complained of no pain anywhere. She said 
she felt a little tired, and would lie down while I was 
out." 

"Was that all she said?" continued the doctor, anx- 
ious to find some symptom that would lead to further in- 
quiry, and thus do away with the necessity of a post- 
mortem examination. 

" She asked me to purchase one or two toilet articles 
for her. 1 have them here." He took from his pocket 
the tooth-brush and soap he had bought, and laid them 
on the table. "Yes," he continued, with more anima- 
tion than had yet characterized his remarks, " she said 



208 MR. OLDMIXOK. 

she felt faint, and I sprinkled a little eau de cologne on 
her handkerchief, and held it to her face for a moment. 
That seemed to revive her." 

" Were there no nausea, feeling of suffocation, diz- 
ziness, or sense of constriction about the head or chest ? 
No pain — nothing but what you have mentioned ?" 

'' No ; there was nothing. I attached no importance to 
the f aintness, as she had several times experienced it. 
I supposed it was the result of slight dyspepsia." 

Now, strange as it may seem — though it is only another 
instance of the boldness with which Hogarth Oldmixon 
was endowed — he desired that there should be a post-mor- 
tem examination of his wife's remains, and a regular 
certificate of the cause of death given. He knew that 
such a certificate, followed as he desired it to be by a cor- 
oner's inquest, would be the most effectual confutation 
that could be had of any hints or suspicions that there 
had been foul play. He had heard it said that not one 
person in a hundred has a perfectly healthy heart. His 
wife had once or twice complained of feeling a little op- 
pression after climbing many steps. She was slightly 
inclined to stoutness, and he had understood that one of 
her sisters had several years previously died of heart dis- 
ease. 

Besides these points, there were two others that he 
deemed of great importance. He saw that the doctor 
was an old-fashioned practitioner, who probably had not 
made a post-mortem examination since he had been a 
medical student, and he knew enough of the human body 
to be aware of the fact that he had, by suffocating his 
wife, produced a congestion of the lungs, such as would 
have resulted from a failure of the heart to send the blood 
through them, and that this organ would be found gorged 



A TENDEB-HEABTED HUSBAKD. 209 

With the fluid that it coiild not propel into lungs that 
could not expand. He was quite sure that a post-mortem 
examination would convince the doctor that death had 
been due either to congestion of the lungs or heart-disease. 
Armed with his certificate to this effect, and the verdict 
of a coroner's jury based upon it, and his wife's dead 
body in the ground, he would be absolutely safe, not only 
so far as his neck was concerned, but even from the sus- 
picion that he had committed murder. 

'^ My dear friend," he said, taking hold of the doctor's 
hand, " you are very kind, and I see that you wish to 
spare me the pain of a post-mortem examination of the 
remains of my dear wife. But, however terrible the idea 
may be, I desire that nothing shall be omitted that can 
throw light on the cause of her death. I hope, Mr. 
Campbell," he continued, turning to the clerk, and speak- 
ing with more firmness, ^* that you will at once notify 
the coroner that a sudden and altogether unexplainable 
death has taken place, and request him as a favor to a 
wretched man, too much disturbed to write for himself, 
to make his examination as soon as possible — this evening, 
if it is within his power." 

^' I will go to him myself," answered the clerk, '^ and 
I will engage to have him here in half an hour." 

"At the same time," continued Hogarth, "be kind 
enough to send this message by telegraph to her poor 
father." He tore a blank leaf out of a book and wrote : 

" Camilla died suddenly between four and five o'clock 
this afternoon. Further particulars will be sent in an 
hour. If you leave to night, you can be here to-morrow 
morning, I am wild with grief. Come. 

" HOGAETH OlDMECON." 



210 ME. OLDMIXON. 

Within the half hour the coroner arrived, and at once 
directed that a post-mortem examination shonld be made. 
Dr. Hidings performed it, and unhesitatingly gave his 
evidence to the effect that death had ensued from con- 
gestion of the lungs, probably due to a feeble heart, and 
the coroner's jury returned their verdict in accordance 
with the physician's dictum. And all the medical wisdom 
of the world, with nothing but the corpse before it, unac- 
quainted with the facts, and with no ground for suspicion, 
could not have arrived at any other opinion than that the 
death was due to natural causes, inherent in her organism. 



CHAPTER XIY. 

A VISION, OR WHAT? 

A FEW days after Jack liad finished his picture Mr. 
Oldmixon returned to New York, feeling, as he declared, 
as well as he ever had felt in his life, so far as his body 
was concerned, but stupid and indolent to an extreme 
degree in everything that related to mental activity. He 
had invited Jack by letter from Saratoga to breakfast 
with him at the LucuUus, and the two were sitting at the 
table enjoying that delightful meal, the ability to appre- 
ciate which is one of the surest evidences of good health. 
He had heard nothing of the sudden death of Mrs. 
Hogarth Oldmixon at Annapolis, having while at Saratoga 
been shut oflE from all newspaper facilities for getting a 
knowledge of what wus going on in the world at large, 
or, rather, having shut himself oflE purposely from such 
means of communication. The large hotels were all 
closed, be saw nobody that he knew, and it was too much 
trouble for him to get a New York paper. He had come 
there for the benefit of his health, and he did not want to 
have the restorative processes that had been set in action 
disturbed by reading of the murders, arsons, robberies, 
embezzlements, and other crimes that constitute the staple 
items of intelligence furnished by most of the newspapers. 

But Jack had read of the sad event in the papers of 
the following morning, and had attended the funeral of 
the young wife at the church and at the cemetery. He 



212 MB. OLDMIXON. 

had seen Hogarth there, but Hogarth had not seen him, 
being apparently so much overcome with grief that he had 
kept his face buried in a handkerchief all the time that 
the services were going on in the church and at the grave. 

He saw as soon as he and his uncle came together that 
the old gentleman knew nothing of the catastrophe, and 
he was deliberating with himself whether or not he should 
tell him of what had occurred. " Perhaps," he thought, 
" it will be better for me to let him find it out for him- 
self." 

But a little reflection brought him to the conclusion 
that this would be neither wise nor kind, and he perceived 
that such a course would justly lay him open to rebuke 
from his uncle. He resolved, therefore, that as soon as 
the breakfast was over he would enlighten him, and he 
concluded that the best way to do this would be to give 
him the newspaper to read that contained a full account 
of the affair as known to the public, and which he had at 
that moment in his pocket. 

*'I feel particularly charitable this morning, my dear 
boy," said Mr. Oldmixon, after he had swallowed the last 
glass of Chablis — a wine he always drank for his break- 
fast — ^' I feel at peace with all the world, always saving 
and excepting that rascal Hogarth. I even think I could 
forgive Partridge for putting that vile jam, or whatever 
it was, on canvas-back. I've been thinking it over. You J 
know they don't know much about canvas-backs in St, 
Louis. How the devil should they, when they are two 
thousand miles west of the Chesapeake?" 

Jack laughed ; " I don't think you can fairly let him 
off on that score," he said. '' They get the canvas-back 
now about as promptly in St. Louis as they do in New 
York, and they know how to cook and eat it there, too." 



A VISION, OR WHAT? 213 

" Now, Jack, you're determined to ontdo me in gener- 
osity. No one knows how to cook and eat a canvas-back 
unless he's been born and brought up on the Chesapeake, 
or very near it. Why, they don't even know in New 
York, unless it is the few choice spirits, like myself, who 
have been lucky enough to come from where the ducks 
come from, and the still fewer people we've taught. I've 
eaten canvas-backs in this very town at the tables of 
people that onght to know better, and they tasted as 
though they had but one hour before been puddling in a 
mud-paddle — I mean paddling in a mud-puddle, " he con- 
tinued, hastily correcting himself. 

". I'm sorry, Uncle Victor," said Jack, who judged that 
his time had now come, *' that you still feel so hardly 
toward poor Hogarth." 

^' Now, Jack, none of that ! I've had enough of ^ poor 
Hogarth ! ' and 1 propose to drop him altogether out of 
my recollection, if I can. He never did you a good turn 
in all his life, yet here you are eternally bringing the fel- 
low up, as though he were the best friend you had on the 
earth." 

^' He is my brother," said Jack, with some feeling. 

*' Yes, and much good the relationship has done you. 
No more of * poor Hogarth. ' You'll make me think 
that you're the 

* Bweet little cherub that sits np aloft, 



To keep watch for the Ufe of poor Jack — * 

Hogarth, I mean." 

'' I didn't know, Uncle Victor, but that since Hogarth 
has met with such an awful misfortune, you might be a 
little more kindly disposed toward him, that's all." 

*' Misfortune ! What misfortune ? Has he been sent 



214 MB, OLDMIXON. 

to the penitentiary, or" (with an utter disregard of the 
possibilities) '* been hanged, or has he blown his brains 
out r 

"No," answered Jack, "it is none of these. Haven't 
you heard?" 

" Hear ! How the devil could I hear, shut up in that 
damned hole, with no one to talk to but a freckled and 
toothless old woman, who wanted to cure my gout with 
hard cider ? What has happened to the fellow ?'* 

" His wife is dead." 

"What! Camilla! Dead!" 

Mr. Oldmixon uttered these three words with a long 
interval after each, and then his jaw fell, his eyes glared 
vacantly at nothing, his hands dropped to his side, and 
he appeared to have lost consciousness. 

Jack sprang to his uncle's side, and soon discovered that 
the condition of collapse, though severe, was not likely to 
be of long duration. In a few moments he asked for a 
glass of wine, and having drunk it, expressed himself as 
feeling better. 

' ' It was a great shock to me, my dear boy. These things 
seem to be coming in battalions. Give me my nitrite of 
amyl. I shall be all right physically if I can get a few 
whiffs of that ; but my mind, Jack, is getting to be hope- 
lessly shattered ; it will never be what it once was." 

Jack put his hands into his uncle's waistcoat pocket 
and took out a small vial. A few whiffs of the contents 
seemed to act as a restorative to the old man, and to en- 
able him to talk with greater ease. 

" Tell me all about it," he continued ; " I think I can 
stand it now." 

Jack got out the newspaper. '' Her death was very 
sudden. There is a full account of it here, and I'll read 



A VISION, OE WHAT? 215 

it to yon. It's a telegraphic despatch from Annapolis, 
and was published in all the papers on the morning after 
the occurrence," 

Mr. Oldmixon closed his eyes, and lay back in his chair 
while Jack read : 

^^ ^ Sudden Death of a New York Lady. 

" * Annapolis, Maryland, Nc/o. 24, 1881. — ^Mrs. Ho- 
garth Oldmixon, a bride of only a few days, died here 
very suddenly at the City Hotel this afternoon, between 
four and five o'clock. Her husband left the hotel for 
a walk at four o'clock, and when he returned, at five, 
found his wife a corpse. Life had probably been ex- 
tinct for nearly an hour. 

^^ ^ A post-mortem examination was made by Dr. Rid- 
ings, with the result of ascertaining that death had ensued 
from congestion of the lungs, the consequence, probably, 
of fatty degeneration of the heart, or some other form of 
cardiac weakness. The coroner's jury returned a verdict 
to that effect. 

^^ ^Mrs. Oldmixon's father is expected here to-morrow 
morning, when the body will be taken to New York for 
burial. Mr. Oldmixon is almost distracted with grief. ' 

^^ In this other paper," continued Jack, ^' there is an 
account of the funeral. 1 thought it an act of respect to 
go to it, and — '' 

^^ Did you go to her funeral, my boy?" interrupted 
Mr. Oldmixon. '' God bless you for that !" 

'^Hogarth appeared to be in great grief," resumed 
Jack. ^'I would have spoken to him, only I did not 
like to intrude upon him at such a time, and besides — ' ' 



216 MR. OLDMIXON. 

^^No," exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, jumping from his 
ctair ; ^' never speak to the wretch if you live a thousand 
years ! He is a murderer ! I tell you, Jack, he killed 
his wife. I saw him do it ! Yes, I saw him do it ! He 
murdered her, cruelly murdered her, and I — I — saw him 
doit.'' 

The last words were spoken very feebly, as Mr. Old- 
mixon, unable to stand any longer, fell back into Jack's 
arms, and was by liis nephew carried, or rather dragged, to 
a sofa, where he lay down at full length, inhaling the 
nitrite of amyl that was held to his nostrils. 

Jack's first idea was, that his uncle had suddenly be- 
come insane ; and the persistency with which he reiterated 
the assertion that he had seen Hogarth kill his wife did 
not tend to lessen this impression. Indeed, he had, ever 
since the renewal of pleasant relations with Mr. Oldmixon, 
been disposed to think that he was subject to periodical 
attacks of lunacy, and he was convinced that he was suf- 
fering from a paroxysm now of as well-marked a char- 
acter as had ever been witnessed inside or outside of an 
asylum. He therefore made no reply to the assertions of 
his uncle, hoping that in a short time the delusion would 
disappear. 

^^ Jack," at last said the old gentleman, '^doubtless 
you think I'm a lunatic, and I should not blame you if 
you did, for the Oldmixons, as you know, are a queer lot, 
and there's been insanity in the family, as well as worse 
things, for many generations back. I may be insane, 
sometimes I think I am, for I am conscious often of say- 
ing and doing things that sane men don't say or do. I 
think I told you some time ago that I thought 1 pos- 
sessed the power to become sane or insane at will. But if 
you were to think that I'm insane from what I said just 



A VISION, OR WHAT? 217 

now, you'd make a great mistake. 1 never was more in 
earnest in my life, and never more fully in possession of 
my mental faculties. Jack, I tell you I saw him murder 
her !" 

'' I don't understand, Uncle Yictor," said Jack ; 
*^ you were at Saratoga at the time. At least, 1 suppose 
so, and Hogarth and his wife were in Annapolis, three 
hundred miles distant. It seems scarcely necessary for 
me to ask you how, under these circumstances, you could 
see such an act as that you speak of, for of course you 
could not. Tour prejudice against Hogarth has distorted 
your mind to such an extent that you deceive yourself, 
and you are ready to believe any absurd fancy to his dis- 
advantage that comes into your head." 

Jack spoke decisively, and with a good deal of feeling. 
He was determined not to countenance his uncle in the 
outrageously unreasonable notions that he was disposed 
to entertain relative to Hogarth, and this, the most pre- 
posterous of them all, he resolved to crush at once. 

" I don't wonder to hear you talk that way, my boy," 
said Mr. Oldmixon, feebly ; '^ you're such a good fellow 
yourself, that you can't suspect evil in others. As to 
my knowledge of the fact that Hogarth murdered his 
wife, I am as much surprised at it as you can be, and I 
did not accept my information as being true till you told 
me that my Camilla was really dead. Then it all flashed 
upon me in an instant, and now 1 know him to be a 
murderer." 

*^ I was not aware that you had any information on the 
subject," observed Jack, apologetically, " or 1 should not 
have spoken so positively. Pray, forgive me. As to 
what you tell me about Hogarth, it is wonderful. I only 
hope that you have been misinformed. I think you 

10 



218 MR. OLDMIXON. 

ought to put me, Lis brother, in possession of all that 
you know on the subject." 

'' I intend to do so, Jack, just as soon as I get a little 
more composed. I suppose I might as well do it now," 
he continued, as he sat upon the sofa. '^ Ring the bell, 
Jack, and ask the fellow to bring me some brandy and 
soda." 

Jack did as requested, and his uncle, after having 
mixed and drunk the liquids he had ordered, began : 

^* I wouldn't expect you to believe what I am going to 
say, if I didn't have the proof in my pocket, and which 
I'll show you when I get through. I was sitting on the 
lawn in front of my boarding-house at Saratoga on the 
afternoon of the 24:th of last month ; I had just finished 
reading a chapter of Silberhausen's great work on wines, 
and was thinking of what he said about the prospects of 
producing wines in this country that would excel those 
of France and Germany, when suddenly I saw a scene, 
apparently enacted before my very eyes, that filled me 
with horror. And yet, when I say that 1 saw it, I am 
not quite sure that I am correct. I CQrt^iivlj perceived 
it, but I think I saw it just as distinctly when I closed 
my eyes as I did when they were open. Indeed, I am 
sure I did. By whatever means the images got to my 
perceptive faculties, this is what I perceived : 

"A man was standing by a window looking out into 
the street ; a woman sat in a rocking-chair behind him 
rocking herself violently. The man was Hogarth, the 
woman was Camilla. It was a clear and delightful day 
where I was ; it was raining furiously at the place where 
these two were. Bear that point in mind, please. 

" A horrid scowl was on Hogarth's face, and his hands 
were twitching convulsively, as though itching to get hold 



A VISION, OR WHAT? 219 

of sometliing or somebody. Camilla looked dignified 
and calm, though at the same time angry. I could not 
hear a word, and therefore had no knowledge of what 
they had said, or were saying to each other ; but their 
actions were as clear to me as yours are now.'' 

Mr. Oldmixon took another potion of the brandy and 
soda, and then resumed his relation. 

^' Suddenly the scowl on Hogarth's face deepened ; his 
countenance flashed with rage ; he turned, and with one 
great bound seized Camilla, and lifting her from the 
chair, bore her rapidly into the next room. Here he 
threw her on the bed and stuffed a handkerchief into her 
mouth, while she struggled violently to free herself from 
his grasp. But it was no use ; he held her down on the 
bed, and then he took the pillow and pressed it over her 
face, so that I could no longer see it. 

'' All this was so real to me, that I screamed out aloud 
for help, but I was powerless to rise from the chair, and 
in the mean time the horrible drama was being enacted 
before my mental vision. 

^'He forced the pillow against her face, and then 
leaned over it with the whole weight of his body. She 
had not ceased to struggle, but I could see that her 
movements were those involuntary, spasmodic ones 
that are performed without consciousness. Gradually 
they became less violent, and at last ceased altogether. 
Still Hogarth continued to lie with his whole weight 
on the pillow. He was determined to make a sure 
thing of it. 

'' Again I screamed, ' He is murdering her 1 He is 
murdering her ! ' But no one answered, and all my ef- 
forts to get up and run for assistance — for so real was the 
whole scene to me that I could not rid myself of the 



220 MR. OLDMIXON. 

idea that it was taking place right there — were in vain. 
I seemed to be like lead ; I could not move a limb. 

'' Finally Hogarth raised himself from the bed, and 
then, after a moment's pause, removed the pillow from 
Camilla's face. She lay there perfectly motionless, and 
as peaceful-looking as though she were asleep. He put 
the bed-clothes in order, folded her hands across her 
chest, smoothed her dress, and then turned to leave the 
room. At that instant I caught a last sight of his face. 
If I live a thousand years, God save me from ever be- 
holding such another face as that ! It contained in its 
expression all the concentrated rage and wickedness of a 
lifetime. And fear ! Ah ! yes, there was fear there. 
The wretch was already bleached with terror. Large 
drops of sweat — cold sweat, I do not doubt — stood out 
on his face. He seemed to be about to run away, panic- 
stricken, from the body that he had made a corpse. 
Yes, he saw the gallows looming up in awful distinctness 
before him, but in a moment he became calm, and then 
I saw nothing more. A half a dozen women came run- 
ning toward me from various parts of the house, asking 
what was the matter, and insisting that they had heard 
cries for assistance that seemed to come from me. " 

*' You fell asleep, uncle, and dreamed all that. It is 
very clear. You had been thinking of Hogarth and his 
wife, and fearing that he would not treat her well ; and 
that idea directed the cause of your dream. Doubtless 
you also called out in your sleep. People often do that." 

'' Yes, I know. That's what the women said when I 
denied having called out ; for you see I didn't care, of 
course, to tell them what I had perceived. But it was 
no dream ; I was not asleep for a single instant." 

'' Well, uncle, what was it ? You surely don't mean 



A VISION, OE WHAT? 221 

to say that while you were at Saratoga, and Hogarth in 
AnnapoHs, you saw him kill his wife ?" 

''Yes, Ido !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, jumping up 
and bringing his fist down on the table, till the glasses 
jingled. " That's exactly what I mean to say. Explain 
it I cannot. But I know that 1 saw what was real, and 
by the living God I'll bring him to the gallows for his 
crime ! There hasn't been an Oldmixon hanged for 
many years, but many months will not elapse before he'll 
dance on nothing !" 

Jack saw that it was useless to attempt to argue the 
matter. His uncle's convictions were as strong as it was 
possible for them to be, and nothing but time could be 
expected to act as an effectual antidote to them. It was 
not likely that they would lead to anything further. 

'' I wrote it all down," continued Mr. Oldmixon, after 
he had refreshed himself with a few whiffs of the nitrite 
of amyl, and another glass of brandy and soda, " and I 
have the record here." 

He took out his pocketbook, and from one of the com- 
partments extracted a sheet of paper folded like a letter. 
This he handed to Jack. 

'' Eead it," he said, " and see if it accords with what 
I have just told you." 

Jack did as requested, and having finished reading it, 
gave it back to his uncle. 

''It is almost word for word with what you have 
stated," he said. 

' ' Very well ! Now look at the date here on the back. " 

Jack again took the paper and read : 

" Thursday, November 24, 1881, 3.35 p.m." 

*' I took out my watch at the moment I ceased to see 
anything," resumed Mr. Oldmixon, "and that was the 



222 MR. OLDMIXON. 

exact time. Now," he continued, bending toward Jack, 
and speaking with a degree of concentrated energy, 
" / solemnly declare that at that very houVj allowing for 
the difference of timCy Hogarth Oldmixon murdered his 
wife. My bird," he sobbed — ^his voice losing its force 
and relapsing into a weakness that rendered the words 
uttered almost indistinguishable — '^killed her bird, my 
nephew killed her. A truly sad experience she has had 
of the Oldmixon family. There's only one event want- 
ing to make the group perfect, and that is the hanging 
of her husband. That shall be my life-work till it is 
accomplished or I have driven him to suicide." 

^' Why, what a sanguinary old uncle he's getting to 
be !" said Brooks, entering the room at the moment. 
^' They told me down-stairs that you were here, and that 
I could come right up for all they knew to the contrary. 
Who's that you're going to drive to suicide ? Some one, 
1*11 bet, that's given you warm champagne. How are 
you. Uncle Victor ? How are you^ Mr. Oldmixon ?'* 

^' Yes," said the old gentleman, never for an instant 
losing his presence of mind, ' ' I was alluding to a fellow 
who did that very thing; curious coincidence, isn't it? 
I've been away, you know. Spent ten days at Saratoga, 
drinking the Geyser water and gaining wisdom from my 
books and the contemplation of nature. Happy is the 
man who can be his own companion !" 

" Why, Uncle Victor, you have come back more of a 
philosopher than ever. You've been absorbing knowl- 
edge and wisdom, as this new luminous paint absorbs 
light, and you' re giving them out to us as it emits in the 
darkness the rays it has received from the sun." 

'^ Yes, yes," answered Mr. Oldmixon, complacently, 
'^ something of that sort, I suppose. Let us hope that, 



A VISION, OR WHAT? 223 

unlike the luminous paint, I shall not confine my illumi- 
nations to the dark." 

'' Ha ! ha ! very good ! But,' ' assuming a serious air, 
^' I beg to offer my condolences on the death of Mi*s. Ho- 
garth Oldmixon. Yery sudden, wasn't it ? I saw your 
nephew yesterday. He was looking as though he had suf- 
fered greatly. Poor fellow ! A widower in five days ! 
That's what I call hard luck." 

''Yes," answered Mr. Oldmixon, with a degree of 
composure that fairly astonished Jack, " Hogarth has 
been unfortunate. I did not know the lady he married 
except by sight, but I understand she was a very esti- 
mable woman." 

Truly his uncle was a remarkable man, and Jack no 
longer had any fear that he would make use of the '' in- 
formation" he had received in a way to create a scandal. 
He would probably go to work secretly to inquire into the 
matter of the truth of what had so vividly been impressed 
on his mind, but there would be no public denuncia- 
tion of Hogarth. Indeed, any such course now, with no 
other evidence than his vision or whatever else it misrht 
have been, would only recoil upon himself, without do- 
ing the least harm to the object of his attack. The whole 
matter would be regarded by the public as an act of per- 
secution against a nephew who had offended him. No ; 
Jack felt sure now that his uncle would do nothing of 
the kind unless he should succeed in obtaining more 
tangible proof of Hogarth's criminality than that in his 
possession. He was not to be long without other evi- 
dences of Mr. Oldmixon's sagacity and at the same time of 
his perseverance ; for in a few minutes Mr. Brooks, dis- 
covering, probably, that he had broken in on a party 
that wished to be in privacy, took his departure. No 



224 MB. OLDMIXON, 

sooner had the door closed behind him than Mr. Old- 
mixon began : 

*' It was well I took this private room," he said, " see- 
ing that we've so much to say that is not for the public 
ear — ^though they made me pay for four. How devilish 
absurd that you can't dine or breakfast here with a friend 
in a private room unless you have four in the party ! I 
order for four and pay for four, and that stops their 
mouths, but it's an imposition ! 

"Well," he resumed, after having unburdened his 
mind on the subject of private dining-rooms, " you don't 
believe in my discoveries ? As I said just now, 1 don't 
blame you. 1 didn't believe in them myself till you told 
me my poor Camilla was dead. Now 1 am sure ; but 
at the same time I am going to convince myself by 
evidence such as will convince you. I have a very 
clear conception of the situation of the rooms in which 
the tragedy took place, and I intend to draw a plan of 
them and to write out an accompanying description. 
I shall make this in duplicate, and I shall give you one 
copy, retaining the other myself. Then I shall go to 
Annapolis in a day or two — and I'd like you to go along 
— ^and inspect the place. If it agrees with my descrip- 
tion, you'll admit that there may be something in my 
vision, won't you ?" 

" Yes," answered Jack, unhesitatingly. ** If your 
written description agrees with the reality, I shall be 
very much disposed to believe in the rest." 



CHAPTEE XV. 

THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 



cc 



Now give me a sheet of paper and pen and ink," 
said Mr. Oldmixon, ^' and while you read the morning 
papers, I'U make my diagrams." 

Jack rang the bell, and ordered the articles in ques- 
tion. 

'' Now," he said to the servant, '* you can draw away 
that table, and don't let any one come up here again; 
and don't come yourself unless I ring." 

'* Very well, sir," answered the man, gathering the 
breakfast things together. 

After he had gone Jack arranged the materials on the 
table, and betaking himself to his newspaper, left his 
uncle to draw the plans which he had in his mind as 
representing the topographical features of the rooms in 
the hotel at Annapolis. 

^* You must know, Jack," said the old gentleman, 
after he had been at work a few minutes, '' that I have 
never been to Annapolis. I was bom in Baltimore, as 
you know, but 1 was brought to New York when a 
baby by the removal of my parents to this city. There- 
fore my ideas of the place have no other source than the 
perceptions that occurred to me at Saratoga. How 
are Government 4s ?" 

*^ An advance of one eighth since yesterday." 

" Good ! If you have any money to invest, put it 
10* 



226 



MR. OLDMLXON. 



in Governments. "When tliey get to be bad the bottom 
will be out of everything else. " 

After another five minutes or so he suddenly inquired : 

" Jack, did you ever see a basilisk ?" 

Jack laughed. " No," he answered ; '' I don't think 
I ever did." 

'' Well, you never will, for there's no such thing. I 
am aware that there is a species of lizard, having a 
membranous bag on the top of the head, to which the 
name is applied. It lives partly on the land and partly 
on the water, but it has no right to the designation." 

^* What does he mean by that kind of talk ?" thought 
Jack. ''Is he conscious that his mind is out of order, 
and is he trying to divert my attehtion or to mystify me 
in some way ?" 

''The basilisk," continued Mr. Oldmixon, " was a 
fabulous beast invented by the ancients. You will find 
a full account of it in Pliny's ' Natural History.' Or if 
you propose to read it in the original," laughing as he 
spoke, ' ' I have in my library a beautiful edition, printed 
at Treviso in 1479, and ornamented with illuminated 
capitals. I was reading it this morning. Liber VIII. 
Capitulum XXI. 

" I suppose there was no such animal," he went on, 
after Jack had disclaimed all intention of trying to read 
Pliny's description of the basilisk in the original Latin, 
" but that the ancients meant the account of it to typify 
a particular kind of a man, so low, so vile, so disgustingly 
fearful, that there was no living animal to which he could 
be compared. So they invented the basilisk, and when 
they found a creature having the external characteristics 
of a man, but yet in his character so despicable, infamous, 
abject, villainous, and incarnately devilish that it would 



THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 227 

be a libel on the haman species to consider him a man, 
they called him a basilisk. Well, that's what Hogarch 
is." 

'' So," thought Jack, ^' that's what he was after. I 
don't know what to make of him. He appears to me to 
be at once one of the most benevolent and one of the 
most diabolical of men ; one of the wisest and one of 
the most foolish." 

But Mr. Oldmixon had not yet finished with the basi- 
lisk, and Jack's thoughts were again interrupted by his 
uncle's remarks relative to this mythical animal. 

'' The basilisk, " he said, still going on with his drawing 
and writing, ^* was a kind of serpent inhabiting the 
deserts of Africa. It had a sharp-pointed head with 
fiery eyes, and was nearly black in color. All other 
snakes got out of its way, and were frightened at the 
hissing sound it made. It killed everything it touched, 
and plants and animals died if only its breath reached 
them." 

'^ What a horrid creature !" exclaimed Jack, laughing. 

^' Horrid creature I" returned Mr. Oldmixon. '' You 
may well say that. But that's the sort of a beast 
Hogarth is. To call him a dog, a snake in the grass, a 
wolf in sheep's clothing, a vulture, would be to insult 
animals that are i^espectable when compared to him. 
Therefore I call him a basilisk. 

" I'll soon be done now, and then we'll see who's right 
about this matter. I venture to say that when we go to 
Annapolis we'll find things exactly as I've put them 
down here." 

" It will be a very remarkable circumstance if we do," 
said Jack, his interest at last thoroughly awakened. 

" And then you'll have to admit that I have some 



228 



MR. OLDMIXON, 



grounds for saying that Hogarth murdered his wife, and 
that I am justified in running him down to his death." 

*' I don't know about that, Uncle Victor. I should 
not like to see my brother die on the gallows, no matter 
how wicked he might be." 

'*Not if he had murdered the woman you loved!" 
exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, rising in his excitement and 
pacing the floor hurriedly. '' 1 don't know that you are 
in love — for special reasons very important in their 
nature I hope you are not — or that you have ever been. 
It may be difiicult, therefore, for you to sympathize with 
me in this matter. It is only those that have suffered 
that can feel for another's woes." 

^' I think," answered Jack, ^' that it was a dreadful 
thing for Hogarth to lose his wife, and the sudden way 
in which she died makes it all the more terrible ; but 
even if he killed her it appears to me that we are not the 
ones to secure his punishment." 

^' Speak for yourself, Jack — speak for yourself ! By 
the by, did you ever see a weasel ?" 

''Well, Uncle Victor," said Jack, laughing again, in 
spite of himself, '' you have the most astonishing way 
of unexpectedly changing the conversation, of any person 
I ever met. As to the weasel, I suppose I have seen it, 
but 1 can't distinctly recollect at this moment. I have 
no very clear conception as to what kind of an animal it 
is, except that I have an idea that it never sleeps. Isn't 
there a saying about ' catching a weasel asleep ' ?" 

'' Yes, that's the weasel. It's remarkable for its 
sharpness, agility, quickness of action, and perseverance, 
and it is so distinguished for these qualities that the 
common people have a notion that it does not sleep ; 
hence the proverb ' catch a weasel asleep ! ' applied to 



THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 229 

men that are always ready — on the qui vive — for what- 
ever may turn up. 1 suppose weasels, however, do sleep, 
though no one ever seems to have caught one in that 
state. Jack, I'm a weasel." 

As Mr. Oldmixon spoke these last words he dropped 
his pen, and rose from his chair, with two half sheets of 
paper in his hand. He had made the diagram and 
explanations, and also a copy for Jack. 

If Mr. Oldmixon had begun the renewal of his 
acquaintance with his nephew by saying that he was a 
weasel, Jack would certainly have been astonished ; but 
now the observation produced no more effect upon him 
than to cause him to wait with some little interest for 
the explanation that was certain to come. It had already 
been given in part by the fact that the old gentleman had 
called attention to certain qualities of the animal in ques- 
tion which would be valuable in a detective ; and when 
he stated that he was a weasel he meant Jack to under- 
stand that he intended to pursue Hogarth to the very 
end, with all the astuteness and perseverance he could 
bring to bear. But he perceived, from his uncle's man- 
ner, that there was something else that likened him to 
a weasel, and that was yet to be mentioned. He did 
not have long to wait. 

^' Yes, 1 am a weasel," repeated Mr. Oldmixon. 
" The weasel is one of the most remarkable animals that 
a wise and a beneficent Providence has seen fit to place 
on the earth. Jack, it was the only animal that was able 
to kill the basilisk. You will find it all in Pliny. 
Hogarth is the basilisk, I am the weasel. I shall kill 
him. No, no," he continued, seeing the look on Jack's 
face, " don't misunderstand me ; Pm not going to take his 
life with these hands, but I am going to bring him to 



230 



MB. OLDMIXON. 



his death for that murder in Annapolis. Now, take this 
paper and follow me while I describe the one I retain. 
They are exactly alike. If not, please call my attention 
to any diflferences that may exist." 

Jack took the paper, and while his uncle spoke studied, 
with the most absorbing interest, the diagram drawn upon 
it. Here, at least, he thought was something that ad- 
mitted of verification. 

(Jack's copy came into my possession not long ago, 
and I am therefore enabled to produce it for the more 
complete elucidation of the subject.) 




9 



I 




'' There were two rooms," began Mr. Oldmixon, " of 
about equal size. Each fronted on the street, and each 
had two windows. The one marked A appeared to be a 
sitting-room ; the one marked B was a bedroom. The 
entrance to the room A was at a, and the entrance to the 
room JB at h. The fireplace in the room A was at c, 
and that of room B Sit d. At e smd f were wardrobes ; 



THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 231 

that in room A was of modem workmanship, and was 
made of mahogany, but that in room JS was smaller, and 
was an old piece of furniture, made of oak, black now 
and with a brass ball at each one of the upper corners. 
At ff in room J5 was the bed, and at A in room vi a round 
table with a yellow marble top. At i in room JB was the 
dressing-bureau, at k h the washstands, and at Z Z in room 
A trunks. There were several chairs in each room, but 
I do not give their positions, as they have probably been 
changed. One, however, I do give. At m in room A 
Camilla sat in a rocking-chair, and the window at which 
Hogarth stood is marked n. The doorway between the 
two rooms is marked o. Now, does your diagram 
coincide with mine ?" 

''Yes, exactly," answered Jack, glancing over the 
two, as Mr. Oldmixon laid his on the table. " They are 
alike in all essential respects. It is all very wonderful 
that you should have such a distinct impression of a 
place that you have never seen." 

'' Yes, but it will be still more wonderful if, when we 
arrive in Annapolis and visit that hotel, we shall find that 
I have described those rooms without making a single 
mistake. 1 don't ask you to believe anything till 1 
prove it. Perhaps you are right to be sceptical. The 
man's your brother, and my information comes in a queer 
way. 

" Now, let me show you how the wretch did the horrid 
deed. Take your diagram, and follow me. 

" Camilla sat in the chair at m," he read, '' and the 
basilisk stood at the window at n. She was rocking 
herself. Suddenly he turned, bounded toward her, 
seized her, and carried her through the doorway o and 
threw her on the bed g. He stuffed the handkerchief 



232 MR. OLDMIXON. 

into her mouth just as he reached the bed. There were 
two pillows on that bed. He took the one nearer the 
door, and as her face lay towai'd him he pressed this 
pillow against it, and held it there for probably three 
or four minutes — ^until, in fact, she ceased to struggle. 

'' Is that the way it reads in your copy ?" 

*' Yes, word for word." 

*^ Very well. Now, take care of it, and get ready to go 
with me to Annapolis Monday next. I would leave to- 
night, but 1 have some business that will keep me for 
two or three days. 1 suppose Hogarth is in town." 

" Yes, Brooks said he had seen him, and I saw him at 
the funeral." 

"Jack, my boy," said Mr. Oldmixon, after a few 
minutes' pause, during which he had appeared to be 
exercising his mind very deeply over something — " Jack, 
my boy," he repeated, with a little tremor in his voice, 
'' you wouldn't betray your old uncle, I'm sure. What 
has passed and what is to pass between you and me is 
sacred." 

'' What you have said tome," interrupted Jack, *^ and 
what you may hereafter say, and everything connected 
with the subject we have discussed this morning will 
never reach Hogarth through me." 

" Thank you, Jack. That is just what I expected of 
you. My dear boy," leaning over the table and looking 
at his nephew with an expression of the most intense 
cunning on his countenance, *^ I'm going to resume 
relations with Hogarth." 

" What, after all that you've said against him ?" 

*' Yes. That's the reason 1 want to have him about 
me. Don't you see, my dear boy ?" 

Jack was for a moment speechless. He. could only 



THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 233 

look at his uncle astonished, almost awed, by this new act 
in the drama. 

''You are a little bewildered, I see, my dear boy," 
said the old gentleman, blandly. '^ But what else can 
I do ? The weasel cannot catch the basilisk unless the 
weasel and the basiUsk are brought together! Of course 
no one but myself saw Hogarth kill his wife, and the 
source of my information is such that it would not be 
received in a court of justice. I have but one way of 
proceeding, and that is to make the scoundrel confess ; 
and that, by the blessing of God, 1 intend to force him to 
do. You know, dear boy, that alienists tell us that there 
is very little diflference between insanity and genius. 
You shall decide, after I get through with this job, 
whether I am a lunatic or an exemplification of that 
rare form of mental development to which we apply 
the word genius. " 

" You must be your own judge. Uncle Yictor," said 
Jack, ^' of your own conduct and of its propriety ; but 
don't ask me to play the hypocrite with Hogarth. I 
cannot forget how he has treated me all these yeara, and 
1 do not propose to forget it till he has atoned for it by 
expressing his regret ; but I can't in cold blood act the 
traitor." 

'' Do as you please ! do as you please I Only don't, by 
word or deed, interfere with me. Now, let's drop him 
and his misdeeds, for I have something to tell you that 
more intimately concerns you. 

'^ 1 have made my will," he continued, '^ and 1 have 
left everything I possess in the world to you." 

'^ I hope I appreciate your goodness to me, Uncle 
Victor," said Jack, much moved by this evidence of 
regard, " but — " 



234 MR. OLDMIXON. 

" Yes, yes ; I know what you are going to say, bnt 
it would be no use for you to ask me to give anything 
to Hogarth. I'll never do it. But, Jack," and again 
the look of cunning and shrewdness came over his face, 
'' if you should hear that I have made a new will and 
left my estate to Hogarth, don't be surprised, and don't 
believe it. You understand, don't you ?" 

'^ Yes," answered Jack, '' 1 think I do. You intend 
to circulate such a report yourself, in order to deceive 
Hogarth." 

" Sharp boy ! sharp boy !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, 
rubbing his hands together. " 1 shall say nothing. 
You can imagine what you please. But you're improv- 
ing, Jack. I should not wonder if, in a short time, you 
get to be as sharp as your old uncle. Ha ! ha ! ha 1" 
and Mr. Oldmixon laughed uproariously. 

Jack muttered something about such a thing being 
impossible. 

^^ Now," resumed Mr. Oldmixon, '' 1 took an inventory 
of my estate yesterday, and 1 find that I am worth, at 
present valuation, seven hundred and sixty-five thousand 
dollars, besides an insurance on my life for twenty-five 
thousand, which brings the total close up to eight hundred 
thousand. It's not much of a pile. Jack, as piles go in 
these days, but it's not a bad plum by any means. It 
yields me an income of a little over forty thousand a year. 

'' Well, my boy, I was seventy-five last birthday, and, 
in the ordinary course of nature, I can't hold out much 
longer. I missed my chance for being hanged, I don't 
intend to blow my brains out, I mean to take care that 
Hogarth doesn't smother me, so that there is nothing 
left but a natural death, and that may come now at any 
moment." 



THE BASILISK JlKD THE WEASEL. 235 

" A man with your good health and good habits," 
said Jack, '' may expect to live up to his expectancy, as 
the insurance companies put it. You have a good long 
lease of hfe before you yet." 

'^ No, no, my boy 1" observed Mr. Oldmixon, with a 
melancholy shake of the head. " I'm not in good 
health. 1 don't go round complaining like most of 
the old hacks you meet, but, in spite of my good looks, 
I'm standing on the brink of a volcano, and the least 
false step may cause me to fall into the crater. A man 
with a heart like mine is never safe. 

'^ However," he went on, *'I have something more 
important than my death to talk about. Do you ever 
think of getting married. Jack ?" 

Jack blushed scarlet at this direct question. 

'^ I see you have," said his uncle, who had been watch- 
ing him closely. ''Your face speaks for you. Well, 
my boy, it's nothing to be ashamed of. Every young 
man ought to get married, and the sooner the better. 
I've done my duty in trying. Forty-three times. Jack, 
have 1 made the attempt to get a wife, and here I am 
nearly seventy-six years of age, and still an old bachelor." 

'' I can't think you have faced the matter with your 
usual energy," said Jack, with a smile. 

" Well, well, perhaps not. 1 might have gone 
farther and fared worse. Ha I ha I But to go on : 
Thinking as I do about the advants^es of matrimony to 
a young man, you will not be surprised when I tell you 
that I have made it a condition of your becoming my 
heir that you shall marry within one year of my 
decease." 

'' You may be putting me off for a long time, uncle," 
said Jack, laughing. '' Suppose you should live ten or 



236 MB. OLDMIXON. 

twelve years yet — as 1 hope and trust you may — ^am I 
to remain single during all that time ?" 

" No J no ; you misunderstand me ; you can marry 
as soon before my death as you please — a year after 
that event is the extreme limit. But the matter would 
not make much practical difierence. 1 shall not live 
over a year at the outside. I am glad that you approve 
of the condition, for you take a load off my mind. 
There's only one thing more." 

" What's that, uncle ?" 

*' It's a delicate subject, Jack, I admit, but it's one in 
which my whole soul is interested. 1 have recently 
become acquainted with a lovely gi^l, gentle, intelligent, 
respectable. I want her for my daughter, and I want 
you to help me by making her your wife.' ' 

'' I'm afraid I can't oblige you in that matter," said 
Jack, with decision and frankness, " for I have recently 
become . attached to a lady whom I intend soon to ask 
to become my wife." 

"Give her up. Jack, or at least don't deny my re- 
quest till you have made the acquaintance of the lady I 
refer to." 

" It would be quite useless for me to become acquaint- 
ed with the lady you have in your mind," said Jack, 
emphatically, " for I shall never renounce the one I 
love till she tells me that there is no hope for me." 

" O Jack, Jack ! is the chief object of my life to be 
defeated through your obstinacy ?" 

" If the chief object of your life is to marry me to a 
woman I do not know and have never even to my 
knowledge seen, I am quite sure that it will never be 
realized." 

'* I counted on you, Jack, so fondly," said Mr. Old- 



THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 237 

mixon, inonmf ally. ^' You have made me very unhappy, 
my boy. Still, I do not despair yet of bringing you to 
my views. Ton will not refuse to meet the lady, I 
suppose ?" 

'' No, Uncle Victor ; I will refuse to meet no one that 
you desire me to know. It would be a deception, how- 
ever, if I were to let you think that meeting this lady 
will incline me to accept your proposition, that I shall 
marry her." 

^' Are you really very much in love. Jack ?" 

'^ Yes, uncle, I think I am." 

*' Is the lady beautiful?" 

^' She is to me the loveliest woman I have ever beheld. 
She has one of those speaking faces that send an 
impression into your heart that stays there forever." 
Have you known her long ?" 

Not very long ; long enough, however, to be very 
much in love with her, and to paint her portrait." 

*' Oh, you've painted her portrait ! 1 don't think it's 
exactly the thing for a painter to fall in love with a 
woman who comes to him to have her portrait taken." 

*' But I didn't, and she didn't. I mean, 1 didn't fall 
in love with her because I painted her portrait, but I 
painted her portrait because I fell in love with her." 

^' Oh, that was the way of it !" 

" Yes, that's the way it was." 

'' I should like to see this wonderful woman." 

" 1 will show you her portrait first, and then you can 
judge whether or not it will be worth while for you to 
see her. May I ask," he inquired, " who the lady is that 
you have done me the honor of selecting to be my wife ?" 

'^ What is the good of your knowing anything about 
her ? Didn't you just tell me it would be no use for you 



6i 
6i 



238 MB. OLDMIXON. 

to make her acquaintance, for that you could not give up 
your present attachment ?" 

*^ Yes, uncle ; on that account it would be useless ; but 
for your sake, as I just said, I am willing to make her 
acquaintance." 

*' I don't see what good could come of talking about 
her under the present circumstances. Her name is not 
one that you have probably ever heard. She is not in 
your station of life, as the saying is, though, so far as 
I can see, she's as good as any one. So, if 1 were to tell 
you her name before you see her, it would very likely 
prejudice you against her. " 

'^ I should not object on the score of what is called 
social position, if she were desirable as a wife in every 
other way. Shall 1 tell you who the lady is that 1 wish 
to marry ?" 

^' What's the use. Jack ? 1 should only feel more 
uncomfortable about the matter. But, my dear boy, 
do you distinctly understand that your becoming my 
heir is contingent on your marriage to the lady I have 
selected within one year from the date of my decease, 
if not before my death ?" 

'* Yes, uncle ; but I should think very meanly of my- 
self if 1 could be influenced by such a consideration, 
and I should think equally meanly of you if you thought 
I could be so influenced." 

Jack's blood was up at last. He had been indisposed 
to resent, more than by a positive refusal, his uncle's 
scheme to marry him to a woman that he did not know ; 
but now that the matter was put so clearly and signifi- 
cantly before him, he intended that there should be no 
doubt as to where he stood and what he meant to do ; 
so he added : 



THE BASILISK AND THE WEASEL. 239 



iC 



And if my position as your heir depends upon my 
acceptance of a wife of your choosing, I desire you to 
omit my name from your will, for my mind is quite 
made up on the matter; and even if it were not," he 
continued, warming with his subject, '' 1 should make 
my own selection, regardless of all the heirships in the 



universe." 



a 



By heavens 1 my boy, I like you for that !" ex- 
claimed Mr. Oldmixon. '^ Even if you do disappoint me, 
and you do not become my heir, let us be friends, Jack," 
holding out his hand, which his nephew cordially grasped. 
'' I shall not change my will. If you comply with the 
conditions, you will get the estate ; if you do not, it will 
go to her. Perhaps, after all, you may change your 
mind." 

Jack smiled incredulously, but said nothing. 

The utterance of a single word — a word that each 
wished to speak — would have destroyed the misunder- 
standing existing between these two. It is not the only 
instance within my experience in which two persons 
have earnestly desired the same thing, and yet each 
thought the other desired a different thing, and in which 
one word, spoken by either, would have led to a perfect 
understanding and the avoidance of an infinitude of 
sorrow. 



TTL 



r .r,mz jma 



Ind 

I if^x^j^^^ ^cuqrrT^jg "^"c* & -zjsxras of m mile on Long 
hlauii ifKz/L icri nz. back 4^«:4z: raZf a mile to die nil- 

T^ LoaK v^tf luhced oq an eievaxioii a few hmidied 
j«irli f rcAQ tl^ waser. a rue aad viiat bad onoe been a 
w^tUkefK la'VT^ wiih a ncf of over a bmidred jean, 
exU^nding down to a sea-vall tbat bomided tbe entiie 
w^tUfT^fnmt. It bad at one time formed part of a Liige 
tnud owned bjr tbe De Villon faunilv, Hngaenots, who 
Wf^e part of a large party wbo, in tbe tronblons times 
at tijo [period of the revocation of tbe Edict of Nantes, 
liiul flf^^i from France to find a refnge on tbis side of the 
Atlantic Ocean. 

The IjouBc occupied the exact spot upon which the 
original Do Villon had built his residence. This latter, 
afl^jr Htanding in good condition for over a hundred 
,ynarH, wan tf>ni down by Colonel Guy de Villon some 

II fly yoarn l>oforo Mr. Henschel appeared upon the 
prninlMOM, atid a well-appointed stone structure, that 
looktul HM thotigli it would stand till the end of time, 
\\\u\ Uh)u oni(!tod on tiio foundations. 

It wim iiHcu^rtaiiuul that these could not be improved, 
tlu\V bning fur luoii) solid than such as are made in our 
\h\y^ m) l.lu\v woro utilized as far as possible. 



"l COULD NEVEB MABEY HIM, FATHER.'' 241 

The walls of the new house, therefore, stood on the old 
stone work, except that at each end Colonel Guy de Yil- 
lon had added a wing, thereby very considerably increas- 
ing the capacity of the new building over that of the 
original structure. 

For several years the house had been uninhabited. 
The De Villous had left it many years ago to reside in 
New York, and then tenant after tenant had occupied it, 
each for only a short time, for there were ugly stories 
afloat relative toitsunhealthfulness. It was said, among 
other things, that no family had ever lived in it a year 
without one or more of its members dying, and that 
sickness had begun almost immediately after occupancy. 

As an explanation of this bad sanitary condition, it 
was alleged that the first De Villous had used the cellar 
as a mortuary vault, and that several dead bodies had 
been buried there. Another, and perhaps a still more 
powerful reason why the house had remained for nearly 
thirty years without an occupant was the beUef , gener- 
ally prevalent in the neighborhood, that it was haunted. 
Nothing so effectually conduces to the depreciation of 
the value of real estate as a well-authenticated story of 
this kind, and the story of the supernatural doings in 
the De Villon mansion rested upon testimony as strong 
as any that had ever before been offered in support 
of a like allegation. Not only had mysterious sounds 
been heard, but mysterious objects had been seen, felt, 
and smelt. Thus there had been moans, knocks, and, 
most wonderful of all, a bugle blast, or what sounded 
like it, coming apparently from the cellar precisely as the 
clock struck twelve. 

Pale and dishevelled women had been seen by the 

passers-by flitting from window to window, clasping 
11 



242 MB. OLDMIXON. 

their hands as though in an agony of grief, and tearing 
their hair in the intensity of their snflEerings. Similar 
figures had been seen by the occupants walking in the 
long halls and passages, or sitting sometimes in front of 
the fire. 

They had been felt, for young Tompkins, whose 
father had, many years ago, declared that he was not 
afraid, and that he and his family would live in the 
house, had, on returning late at night from a convivial 
party at New Eochelle, been seized by one of these 
dishevelled women and led by the wrist down into the 
cellar, where he was found the next morning more dead 
than alive, and fully convinced that the house was 
haunted. Nothing, he declared, would induce him to 
pass another night under its roof, and shortly afterward, 
other signs being produced, Mr. Tompkins and his family 
had moved out. And they had been smelt ; or, at least, 
odors more or less resembling those that are popularly 
supposed to baindicative of the proximity of supernatural 
beings, inasmuch as they were sulphurous and phosphor- 
ous in character, had been wafted through the house in 
a way that defied explanation. As there was no other 
apparent source of these awful smells, the conclusion 
was inevitable that they were due to the presence of beings 
that had not yet entirely gotten rid of their corporeality. 

All the senses — sight, hearing, touch, and smell — ex- 
cept that of taste appeared to unite in supplying evidence 
of the existence of ghostly dwellers in the De Villon 
manor house. The fact that tliis one sense furnished 
no testimony ought not, of course, to have militated in 
the slightest degree against the prevalent beh'ef, for how 
in the world can a ghost be tasted ? People don't run 
round, even when they are scared, and it is midnight, 



*^I COULD KEVEE MAERY HIM, FATHEE." 243 

with their tongues lolling ont of their mouths, searching 
for ghosts ; and no being of the kind has ever been 
known to jump down a person's throat, no matter how 
wide open the jaws may have been. 

There is evidence tendmg to show that demoniacal 
personages of various degrees of eminence in the infer- 
nal hierarchy have entered the human body by the 
mouth, and have, under the influence of the forms for 
exorcism prescribed by the Church, departed through 
the same channel ; but even if the possessed had been 
in a frame of mind to exercise the sense of taste, I 
respectfully submit that devils are not ghosts. Yes, 
it will have to be admitted without further question 
that no one has ever tasted a ghost — ^that is, the spirit of 
a person once a dweller on earth. 

The matter, however, was not discussed in any degree 
of captiousness by the citizens of Westchester County, 
in the State of New York, whose destiny had made 
them neighbors of the De Yillon property, for nearly 
every one admitted that the stories told of the old house 
were true. In fact, there was but one sceptic, and he 
was a physician, who not only did not credit the tales 
of the ghostly dwellers of the De Villon mansion, but 
was generally thought not to believe in anything. 

It was in vain, however, that old Dr. Maddox 
denounced the faithful believers with all the vigor of 
which he was capable and in language scarcely fitted for 
ears polite. 

It was in vain that he declared that there were no 
dead bodies buried in the cellar ;. that the deaths that 
had occurred were due to bad drainage ; that the diaboli- 
cal smells had the same origin, and that Dick Tompkins 
was as drunk as a fool when he had come home that 



244 HB. OLDMIXON. 

night and imagined that a ghost had led him into the 
cellar. 

It was in vain that he declared that the pale and di- 
shevelled women seen at the windows were some old 
muslin curtains that had been left there, and that all 
the rest was imagination, controlled by fear. 

Whenever have statements such as these made by 
unbelievers had any influence in convincing those whose 
minds are governed by faith, not fact ? Never, so far 
as I know. 

So the reputation of the De Yillon manor house re- 
mained unchanged, very much to the disgust of the 
representative of the family and present owner, who 
could neither rent nor sell it. 

But the bad name did not extend to the whole prop- 
erty, comprising at one time more than three thousand 
acres. 

Little by little this had been disposed of, till now 
nothing remained but the house and about sixty acres 
around it. This it was that Mr. Henschel had bought. 

Originally he had contemplated purchasing a smaller 
piece of ground, with a much more humble house, but 
Dr. Maddox had called his attention to the De Villon 
property, that could be had for a mere song, and that 
only required the expenditure of a few hundred dollars 
on the drainage to make it as healthy a residence as any 
on the Sound. As for the ghosts, he knew his old 
friend Henschel was not such an ass as to believe in 
them. 

"You can get it," said the doctor, " for ten thousand 
dollars — you can sell it in five years for sixty thousand 
or more. I would have bought it long ago myseM but 
for the facts that I am an old bachelor with no one to 




"r COULD NEVBB MABEY HIM, FATHEB." 245 

leave it to when I die, and that I have as much now, 
in the way of wealth, as I want." 

The consequence was, that Mr. Henschel and Barbara 
had made a visit to the place, and after a thorough exam- 
ination, in company with Dr. Maddox, had bought it of 
the agent for the sum of nine thousand dollars, Mr. Hen- 
schel oflEering eight, and the agent finally lowering his 
price to nine, or, as he said, ^^ splitting the difference." 

'' That thousand dollars," remarked Mr. Henschel to 
Barbara, as they drove to the railway station on their 
way back to down, " will about pay for the new drainage 
the house wants. What do you think of it, Bab ?" 

'' I think we shall be very happy there, father. It's 
a fine old house, but very large for us two." 

" Yes, it's large ; but there's never any harm in look- 
ing ahead. You'll marry some day or other, perhaps, 
and I shall only allow you to do so on condition that 
you don't leave me." 

" O father, how can you think of such a thing !" 

*^ How can I think of it, my dear ? Didn't 1 have 
to make constant efforts not to think of it when that 
young professor was down here from Cornell, and was 
making excuses for coming every day to see you ?' ' 

" But I couldn't have married him, father, because, 
because — " 

" Yes, 1 know, you sent him off. I suppose you 
didn't care for him, but he would liave been a good 
match for you. Still, as things go — " 

" Not if I didn't love him, father ?" 

^^ Oh, no, of course not ; but I would have been well 
pleased if you could have loved him, my dear." 

" It was impossible ; I don't think I shall ever care 
enough for any man to marry him.'* 



246 MR. OLDMIXON. 

She spoke these last words as though they were a 
thought expressed aloud, and not intended for any one 
to hear. 

If Mr. Henschel heard them, he took no notice of 
them. 

" Then, there's Peter," resumed Mr. Henschel. 

^^ Yes,'' she answered, with a little laugh, "there's 
Peter ; but he is uneducated ; you surely would not like 
me to marry Peter ?" 

'' No, no, my dear, I did not say I would ; I only 
mentioned his name as one of those you could have, by 
simply giving him a chance to ask you. But there's 
still another, Mr. Oldmixon." 

" The old gentleman 1" exclaimed Barbara, laughing 
again, but this time more than before, and coloring a 
little. '' I haven't seen him since the day he told me of- 
his troubles ; I shall probably never see him again, and 
he's seventy-five years old." 

" Ah 1 but, my dear, I didn't mean the old gentle- 
man, as I suspect you know very well. I meant the 
youngs one, who's painting our portraits and workshop. 
How about him, Bab ?" 

" Nothing is so entirely out of the question as my 
marrying him," answered Barbara, very gravely. " Mr. 
Oldmixon is pleasant enough to talk to, but he is not 
the man I could marry, even if I were the woman he 
would care to marry." 

"I am sure he cares for you, my dear; I haven't 
reached my age without learning the value of glances 
and smiles and words and actions. He's been coming 
now every day for the last week. When will he finish ?' ' 

" Probably to-morrow ; but if he cares for me in the 
way you think, 1 shall let him understand that it is no 




"l COULD KEVER MARRY HIM, FATHER." 247 

use. I like him as a friend, but I couldn't marry him 
if he was the only man in the world." 

''Why not, my dear? He's handsome, correct in 
his conduct — ^that I can see, too — making a name for 
himself very rapidly, able to take care of you, and if he 
shoTild love you,"what more could you ask ?" 

'' I could never marry him, father ; it is impossible. 
We cannot probably always tell ourselves why we 
arrive at certain conclusions relative to persons of our 
acquaintance ; why we like some and dislike others, and 
so on. You know, father, 1 talk to you very frankly ; I 
suppose if 1 had a mother 1 should speak to her as I 
speak to you. 1 see that you would be pleased to have 
me married to Mr. John Oldmixon. It can never be ! 
Never ! I like him very much ; I take pleasure in his 
society — I would not wish to be cut o£E from it — but that 
is all ; as to marrying him, it is out of the range of 
possibility. Besides, 1 am very sure he has never 
thought of me in that way." 

*' Well, well, perhaps I am mistaken. Shall 1 ask 
him to visit us at our new house ?" 

''If he shows that he would like to come I see no 
reason why you should not. Ton like him, I like him. 
One is not bound to marry any gentleman that one likes." 

So, as the reader knows, the invitation had been 
given and accepted. 

It took a couple of weeks to put the old house in such 
a sanitary condition as to make it safe for the Henschels 
to move into it. It was in good repair in every other 
respect, except that here and there a pane of glass was 
broken and the plaster needed mending, and then, of 
course, it was entirely without furniture. 

They decided not to do more at present than to 



248 



ME. OLDMIXON. 



fumisli the main building, and indeed there was more of 
this than they had need for, there being four large 
rooms on each of the two floors. Bnt, as Mr. Henschel 
said, he was not going to confine himself and his daughter 
to quarters as narrow as those they had occupied for so 
many years in New York. Peter had agreed with his 
capitalist, and Mr. Henschel had received his own price 
for the stand and the business, so that he was that much 
better off, in the way of ready money, than he had been 
before. There was no need for them to stint themselves. 
He was not what is called rich, but he had enough to 
make him and his daughter comfortable, without the 
necessity for either of them turning their hands to any 
labor for the purpose of getting money by it. 

So the house was well furnished, and many little 
luxuries of a kind that they had never been accustomed 
to were added, in the expectation that it would be ren- 
dered still more attractive, as they were made happier, 
by experiencing the sense of possession and by the con- 
templation of objects that were in themselves beautiful. 

^' It's only an investment," Mr. Henschel said, when 
talking with Barbara about some Kussian, French, and 
American bronzes he had purchased for the new home, 
and which had cost a considerable sum of money. 

^' They're not only beautiful to look at, but they'll 
serve you for study, my dear, now that you are going to 
become a sculptor. For a little while, that is," he 
added. " I had a conversation with Mr. Maurice yester- 
day, and he said all you wanted from him was a knowl- 
edge of how to use the tools and the material, and that 
you would learn that in a very short time. You'll teach 
them all after a while." 

^^ Ah ! father," she answered, ^'that remains to be 




"I COULD NEVER MAEBT HIM, FATHEE." 249 

seen. When do 1 take my first lesson from Mr. Mau- 
rice?" 

^* Well, I think we had better get fairly settled in the 
new house first. I suppose that will take a couple of 
weeks yet ; then you can take the south-west room on 
the second story — the one just behind your bedroom — 
and fit it up as a studio. You can have 4hat side of the 
second floor, and I'll take the other side. I think I'd 
like to practice a little taxidermy now and then, just to 
keep my hand in. By the by, Bab, you haven't given 
the place a name yet." 

^' Am I expected to name it, father ?" 

^' Of course ; I always intended that." 

" Then I'll call it ^ Lasata.' " 

** And what in the world may be the meaning of 
Lasata ?" 

" It's a name I heard on the Plains. An Indian 
woman used it in speaking to me, and the interpreter 
explained to me that it meant * the place where you 
rest after hard work.' " 

'' Admirable, my dear, from one point of view, but 
there will not be much rest for you, I'm afraid. People 
with your mental organization never rest till the grave 
closes over them. They change the form of their work, 
but that is all ; however, Lasata it shall be." 

So they left the house in New York and took posses- 
sion of the one they had agreed to call Lasata. The 
sign remained over the old shop, but above it appeared 
another, with smaller letters, bearing the inscription, 
*' Dibble & Swain, Taxidermists, Successors to." 

Nothing had been seen of Jack since he had finished 

his picture. Every morning Barbara went in to Mr. 

Maurice's studio and took her lesson in modelling and 
11* 



250 ME. OLDMIXOK. 

in the use of the chisel. This gentleman had for many 
years been a friend of her father's. He was nearly, if not 
qnite, as old as Mr. Henschel, but for all that he was 
capable of doing good work, and had recently execnted 
a symbolical statue of " Argenta," in solid silver, for a 
wealthy citizen of one of the mining States, that had been 
highly praised in art circles. As a teacher he was un- 
equalled. He not only took infinite pains with his 
pupils, but he seemed to have the power of imbuing all 
those possessed of any degree of receptivity with a por- 
tion of his own genius. In Barbara he evinced from the 
very beginning a great interest. She had all the art- 
instinct that he liked to see in his pupils. And indeed, 
as he had told her father, there was not much for him 
to do beyond teaching her the techniqtie of the arts of 
modelling and sculpture. 

By eight o'clock every morning, except Sunday, 
Barbara was at Mr. Maurice's studio, and here she 
remained till four o'clock, when she took the train for 
Mamaroneck, the more convenient station to Lasata, 
though New Kochelle was nearer. Here her father 
always met her in the little one-horse chaise that held 
two, and which he drove himself, while Barbara sat by 
his side. Usually before going home they took a little 
drive up the road that ran along the Sound, for a mile 
or two, and then turning off to the west brought them 
into a thickly wooded and semi-mountainous district, 
which was now rather barren of verdure, though it 
was well stocked with evergreens, but which in the 
spring, the summer, and the early autumn there was 
every indication was as beautiful a region as one would 
wish to see. It was generally quite dark when they got 
home, for the winter was now upon them ; but the cool, 



a 



I COULD KEVER MARRY HIM, FATHER." 251 



bracing evening air was a luxury that they did not care 
to forego ; and then Mr. Henschel could not easily have 
dispensed with the pleasure he received at hearing Bar- 
bara's recital of her doings during her stay in the city. 
What she was working at, what Mr. Maurice had talked 
about, what she was likely to undertake next, and other 
like matters were subjects about which he was never 
weary of conversing. Then when they got home they 
had dinner, and after that, while her father smoked his 
pipe, in the room that they had fitted up as a library, 
Barbara read sometimes aloud, or they talked, or she 
played backgammon — of which he was very fond — with 
him, till it was time to go to bed. There was very little 
opportunity, therefore, for her to engage in any work of 
her own in her studio. Occasionally, when she did not 
feel tired, she would do a little at modelling in clay before 
she went to bed, and in very bad weather, when she did 
not go to town, she had a good long time to give to it. 

They had been at Lasata somewhat over a week, and 
yet nothing had been heard of young Mr. Oldmixon, as 
they called him, till one morning, on arriving at the 
studio, she found a note for her from Jack, which Mr. 
Maurice told her had been left by the gentleman in 
person, just after she had departed on the previous day. 
It read : 

^^ Dear Miss Henschel : I have been very much en- 
gaged in looking after my uncle, who has not been well 
for several days, and besides that I have been out of town 
with him, and was detained nearly a week by his ill- 
ness. I only got back yesterday, to find that you had 
gone away from the old place. Mr. Swain was kind 
enough to tell me that I would find you at Mr. Mau- 



252 ME. OLDMIXON. 

rice's studio every day till four o'clock. I write this 
to leave, in case you have gone before I arrive, as I may 
possibly be a few minutes late. 

" I have not forgotten that I am under promise to tell 
yon how I caught the silver fox. If you have still any 
interest in hearing the wonderful story, let me know 
what evening I shall come out to your new home and 
tell it to you. Also at the same time inform. me how 1 
am to get there, and at what hour I can get back. 

" With my regards to your father, believe me, dear 
Miss Henschel, Yours sincerely, 

'* John Oldmexon. 

"P. S. I gave Archer, who stands in the very front 
rank of American painters, and who took a gold medal 
at the Paris Salon last year, a peep at the * Taxidermists.' 
He looked at it for fifteen minutes, then he turned 
round, grasped my hand, and said, * Oldmixon, 1 would 
rather have painted that picture than anything I have 
ever done.' As to what he said about the portraits, I 
shall have to keep that till I come to tell you how I 
caught the silver fox. J. O." 

Barbara was glad to hear from Jack. She had won- 
dered for several days what had become of him, and she 
had been disappointed that he had not called or sent a 
message of any kind. Had her acquaintance with him been 
of the ordinary description, she would not have troubled 
herself to think of him ; but she recognized the fact that 
it was something more than that. She had helped- 
although he probably knew nothing of the circumstance 
— to make him his uncle's heir, and their association, 
while he was painting his picture, had been of so inti- 
mate a character that she had learned a good deal about 



**I COULD KEVEB MARRT HIM, FATHER. " 253 

his disposition, his ways, his strong and weak points, 
his acquirements, that had tended to make her regard 
him as something more than a mere acquaintance. She 
liked him, but she had never once thought of him as 
a possible lover. She knew he was to be rich, and she 
had formed the idea that he did not know this fact, and 
that of itself would have operated as a bar to the 
development of any stronger feeling in her heart than 
that of friendship. It would have seemed to her as 
though she were taking an imfair advantage of him. 
No, she had never thought of him as a possible lover, 
but she had thought of him as an impossible one, and 
she had done so with regret and with the wish in her 
heart that matters had been so ordered that she could 
feel herself free to encourage Jack in making the demon- 
strations of affection that she knew would come at the 
slightest sign from her that they would be agreeable to 
her. 

She had made up her mind that it would be very 
difficult, if not impossible, for her to maintain the course 
that she had resolved to pursue, unless she was cut off 
altogether from Jack's companionship. She had joined 
in the invitation that her father had given, but she had 
done so out of. politeness and from that desire, inherent 
in her, never to say or do anything calculated to wound 
the feelings of her friends. She had really, however, 
at the time scarcely supposed that she would see much 
of Mr. Jack Oldmixon, and she doubted if he would even 
take the trouble to renew the acquaintance. Then she 
had felt that it was strange when, after several days^ 
she heard nothing of him, that he had not called or 
made some effort to find her ; and then she began to 
think that he had not acted altogether well, and that 



264 ME. OLDMIXOK. 

something, if only courtesy, was due to herself and her 
father. 

This letter was at once an enlightenment and a solace to 
her. It explained his absence, and it relieved her mind 
of all her half -formed apprehensions that she and her 
father, having served his purpose for his picture, were 
no longer of suificient importance to him to cause him to 
put himself to the trouble of making them a visit. Her 
mind was busy all through her work that day with 
reflections excited by this letter, and she read it over 
two or three times, in order to be quite sure that she had 
mastered all the meanings it was intended to convey. 
It was a very frank and clearly written letter, and she 
eventually arrived at the conclusion that there was no 
occult significance in its lines. Evidently the writer 
desired to renew the acquaintance, evidently he liked her, 
and evidently if he once began coming to Lasata he 
would continue to come, so long as he was permitted to 
do so and things were made pleasant to him. Well, 
she would not answer him till she had shown his letter 
to her father. 

The old man was at the station, waiting for her as 
usual, and as usual they took their little drive before 
proceeding home. She said nothing to him then about 
what was on her mind, as she thought it would be 
better to wait till after dinner, and he could, with his 
pipe in his mouth, give his undivided attention to a 
matter that struck her as being one of great importance. 
Then, when that time arrived, she opened the subject in 
the direct way that was a characteristic of her method 
of dealing with all things, both great and small. 



CHAPTER XYIL 

'^ WELCOME TO LASATA !" 

^TvE Lad a letter from Mr. John Oldmixon," said 
Barbara, while her father was lighting his pipe prepara- 
tory to sitting down to his evening newspaper. 

'' Have you, Bab ? I've been wondering what had be- 
come of him. ' ' 

'* He's been out of town, and his uncle has been ill ; 
but here's his letter. I wouldn't answer it before let- 
ting you read it, and deciding for me what kind of a re- 
ply to make. ' ' 

Mr. Henschel's interest was at once excited. He 
thought the communication was a proposal of marriage, 
as almost any one else in his situation and with his knowl- 
edge of the circumstances would also have thought, and 
he instantly resolved that if this were the case he would 
advise his daughter to accept the hand tendered her. 
He was a practical jnan, not indisposed, however, to un- 
derestimate the advantages of a marriage in which there 
was love on both sides, but, at the same time, fully 
aware of the temporal benefits likely to occur to his 
daughter by a marriage with so eligible a parti as was 
Mr. John Oldmixon. He took the letter and read it ; 
and though there was a little disappointment at the fact 
that his expectations were not realized, he was, neverthe- 
less, well satisfied with it as an entering wedge to the con- 
clusion he so greatly desired. 



266 ME. OLDMIXON. 



(( 



It's a nice letter, Bab," he said, handing it back to 
her and rehghting his pipe — his engagement with the 
letter having interfered with the combustion -process 
necessary to the usefulness of this important source of 
comfort — '^and such a one as a gentleman should write. 
Not too effusive and not too formal. You haven't an- 
swered it, I think you said ?" 

*' No, father ; I didn't know exactly what to say. Ton 
know he can't very well come up here in the evening 
and go home that night. To do so would only give him 
about a haK hour at the house." 

^' And you'd like to have him longer, eh, Bab ?" said 
Mr. Henschel, with a knowing laugh. 

^^ I didn't say that, father," answered Barbara, with a 
slight, very slight blush. " I was only thinking that it 
would scarcely be worth his while to come here and then 
have to hurry to avoid missing the train. Conversation 
under such circumstances can never be satisfactory." 

**True, true," said the old man, musingly. "Then 
you had better invite him to stay all night." 

"But we've no pl^ce to put him, father, and — and," 
she added, hesitatingly, " wouldn't it be going too far on 
our slight acquaintance with Mr. Oldmixon to ask him 
to pass a night in our house ?" 

" I don't know exactly how that would be, my dear. 
It won't do for us to be too forward with our invitations 
to men who, like Mr. John Oldmixon, may think they 
are better than we are, and — " 

^'O father!" interrupted Barbara, alarmed at the 
conclusion he had reached, and eager to defend Jack from 
what she felt was an unjust imputation, "I didn't 
mean that. I'm quite sure Mr. Oldmixon has never had 
any such notion." 



*' WELCOME TO LASATA !" 267 

^^ Probably not, my dear. I didn't say he had, but we 
can't be too much on our guard. We are proud people, 
Bab. Our family does not rank with the great ones 
either in Denmark or here, but we've always done our duty 
in the stations to which we have been called, and if we 
choose I doubt not could take our place among the 
aristocracy in, this country. "We're respectable, and 
we're rich— that is, rich enough," checking himself, 
" and that's the thing that tells. 

" But to go back to Mr. John Oldmixon," he con- 
tinued, after a little pause, during which he puffed stren- 
uously at his pipe, in the expectation apparently that the 
more tobacco- smoke he got into his air-passages the 
quicker he would reach a satisfactory conclusion on the 
question under consideration — " to go back to him, I don't 
think we shall run any risk of being repulsed by meeting 
him half way. Therefore, write to him, my dear, and in- 
vite him to come up on any evening that suits him and 
to stay all night. Perhaps you had better give the invi- 
tation in my name." 

'' But we've no place to put him, father. You have 
the two north rooms, and I have the two south 



rooms." 



^' Why not fit up the room behind this as a bedroom ? 
We want a spare room, for we must expect to have a 
guest with us occasionally. Yes, write, and I'll go to 
town to-morrow and get furniture for the room. This 
is Wednesday — ^well, Bab, what do you say to asking him 
to come on Saturday afternoon and to stay over through 
Sunday till Monday morning ? Would that be having 
too much of him T ' 

Barbara laughed. " If you'll promise to do the most 
of the entertaining, I have no objection," she answered. 



268 MB. OLDMIXON. 

" I think, however, that he will not be able to leave his 
uncle for so long a time." 

" Well, he must be the judge of that. So write your 
letter, so that you can mail it in the city to-morrow. 
He'll get it sooner than if you send it from here." 

Barbara seated herself at the table, and in a few min- 
utes handed her father the letter she had written. 

" Dear Me. Oldmixon : You are very kind to write 
and remind me of your promise to tell me how you caught 
the silver fox. We shall be glad to see you, and father 
bids me say that he will be very glad if you will come up 
in the 4 p.m. train on Saturday and stay over till Monday 
morning. 

*' We are both sorry to hear of your uncle's illness, and 
hope it is nothing serious. 

" Hoping to see you Saturday evening, and informing 
you that you will have the opportunity of escorting me if 
you come in the 4 p.m. train, 1 am 

^' Yours sincerely, 

^' Babbara Henschel.' ' 

*' That will do," said Mr. Henschel, as having finished 
reading the letter he handed it back to Barbara. ^* He'll 
be sure to come in the four-o'clock train," he added, 
laughing. *'I'll send Ben down with the carriage, and 
you can drive him over while 1 stay at home to receive 
the guest. Will that suit you ?" 

^^ Any way of yours will suit me, father," said Barbara, 
who felt in unusually good spirits. '* Now, shall I beat 
you at backgammon ?" 

They sat down to play, and they played many games, 
but she did not beat him. On the contrary, she got but 



"WELCOME TO LAS ATA !" 259 

two or three games out of a dozen or more, and those she 
won rather by persistent good luck than by good manage- 
ment. In fact, her mind was not on the work before her. 
She was thinking of the visit that was to be made to them 
the following Saturday, and of what she should do toward 
making the time pass pleasantly for the visitor. It was 
rather too cold to go out on the water, even if the sun 
should have the best sort of an opportunity for sending 
down his rays to the earth, and the probability was that, 
like most December days, Sunday would be bleak. She 
might drive him around the country, or, better still, might 
walk with him, for then her father could go along, and 
she would not be under the necessity of being alone with 
him. She dreaded this latter contingency. She was 
afraid for herself — afraid that she would become more 
deeply interested in him than would be conducive to her 
happiness, for she had fully resolved that nothing should 
persuade her to marry Mr. John Oldmixon ; and to love 
a man that she could not marry would be misery to her. 

And then this must be his last visit, as it would be 
his first. On that point her mind was clear ; but she was 
aware that it was one that she would have to argue with 
her father, and that to gain it she would be obliged to 
enter at length into her reasons. 

Mr. Henschel never attempted to set himself in oppo- 
sition to her fully matured and deliberately expressed 
opinions ; but as he was a reasonable human being, and 
one that specially prided himself on the logical manner 
in which he exercised his intellectual faculties, it would 
not do for her to simply say, ^' 1 prefer not to have Mr. 
John Oldmixon come here again." She must be able to 
give reasons for such a dogmatic utterance, and as she 
was a sensible woman, and one not prone to act from 



260 ME. OLDMIXON. 

whim or caprice, it was in the highest degree probable 
that her father, even if not convinced of the validity of 
her arguments, would allow her to have her own way in 
a matter that concerned no one so much as it did herself. 

She had no very strong reasons for believing that Jack 
loved her, but she had a dim suspicion, that he did. She 
too, like her father, had observed looks and tones and 
manner, all of which went to show that the young man's 
feelings were deeply involved. Then had come this 
letter, and that had tended to strengthen the misgiving 
into almost a belief, else why should he seek her out 
when there had been such an excellent opportunity for 
him to pass out of the current of her life altogether ? 

She finished her games of backgammon, and Mr. Hen- 
schel, who was delighted — as all old people are when they 
win games that they play merely for amusement — ^with 
his success, and who had not noticed the fact that Bar- 
bara's thoughts were not on her play, attributed the result 
to his own skill and knowledge. 

^' You don't play backgammon as well as you mount 
animals, Bab," he said, laughing, as they stood together in 
front of the fire before going up-stairs, ''and probably 
not so well as you model. And as to modelling, didn't 
you tell me a few days ago that you were about to begin 
a new subject ? "What is it ?" 

" It' s an animal, father. How the wind blows to-night I 
I hope it is not storming on the Sound. I saw the steam- 
ers go by awhile ago, one after the other, the big Fall 
Eiver boat leading, and then the New London and the 
Stonington boats following, with several smaller ones at 
respectful distances." 

''No, 1 don't think it is blowing very hard on the 
Sound. I'll go out and look around a moment^ and 




** WELCOME TO LASATA !" 261 

you'll feel easier if I come back and tell yon there's no 
danger of wrecks to-night/' 

She looked worried. She did not feel apprehensive 
about a storm on the Sound ; she had only been trying to 
direct her father's attention from the subject she was 
modelling ; and she had succeeded so thoroughly that he 
was going out into the cold night air in order to be able to 
assure her that there was no rough weather, and thus to 
enable her to sleep with a mind free from apprehension. 
This was more than she had bargained for, and more than 
she could honestly accept. 

"Ko, father dear," she said, laying her hand on his 
arm and looking pleadingly into his face, " don't go out ; 
it's cold — ^too cold for you to expose yourself. I'll tell 
you what I am modelling. It's the silver fox, and I'm 
doing it altogether from memory, for Mr. Oldmixon has 
the specimen I mounted. It isn't storming on the Sound ; 
it was scarcely fair in me to intimate that it was ; I only 
said it," she continued, stroking his face with her hands 
and smiling," to divert your attention, for I did not want 
to tell you what I was modelling. I was afraid you would 
think I had chosen to model, the silver fox because that 
was the animal I moimted for Mr. Oldmixon, and — 
and—" 

"Never mind, you little witch," said Mr. Henschely 
laughing heartily ; " it just shows how you can twist 
your old father around your little finger. Tou could 
make him believe that the moon's made out of green 
cheese, if you were to try." 

"She loves him," he continued to himself , after he 
had bid her good-night and was crossing the upper hall 
to his own room. " She may say what she pleases, but 
she loves him. Probably she thinks she does not ; but I 



262 MR. OLDMIXON. 

know something of the ways of women. Well, well, I 
hope so. I'll let her alone, and she'll do what's right ; 
but I think she loves him, and there are very few women 
that can resist that feeling when it comes up in their 
hearts." 

Preparations were at once made for Jack's visit. Mr. 
Henschel spent the whole of the next day after the recep- 
tion of the letter selecting furniture, and Barbara " knock- 
ed off work," as she called it, two hours before her usual 
time for stopping, in order that she might assist in the 
selection of a rug for the floor, a brass bedstead, a dressing- 
stand, a table, a luxuriously upholstered chair, and several 
other articles that the emergency demanded. Then Bar- 
bara suggested a book-rack for the table, and her father 
was for going at once to get books to put into it ; but she 
reminded him that she knew what books Mr. Oldmixon 
liked best to look over in a desultory way, and that she 
had them at home. 

It was a long time, however, before they could suc- 
ceed in finding a pedestal of the kind that Barbara had 
set her heart on, and which she informed her father was 
for the silver fox. ^^ I shall have it done by to-morrow 
evening," she said, '^ and I suppose it might as well stand 
in the spare room as anywhere else." 

^* Oh, yes, by all means !" replied her father. ^^ That 
is the best place for it when we have visitora ; at other 
times we'll put it in the library." 

And then Saturday came. The painter had touched 
up several spots that required his services, and had paint- 
ed the floor a dark chocolate color where it was not covered 
by the Kensington rug ; the furniture was in place, some 
extra preparations had been made in the way of eatables, 
and last, but not least, the model in clay of the silver fox 



*^ WELCOME TO LASATA !" 263 

had arrived the night before, and had been set up on its 
pedestal in the centre of the large bay-window that occu- 
pied the greater part of the front of the house on that 
side of the doorway. Mr. Henschel thought she had 
been even more successful than with the mounted speci- 
men, inasmuch as she had had more freedom for the exer- 
cise of her artistic instinct in working the clay than in 
moulding the skin of the dead animal. At any rate, she 
had produced a work that was full of her genius, and that 
Mr. Maurice, in a note to her father, said was sufficient 
of itself to stamp her as an artist of the highest merit. 
"I advise," he continued, "that it be cast in bronze. 
The more works like that that are spread over the coun- 
try, the better it will be for the people." All of which 
was very pleasant both to Mr. Henschel and to Barbara. 
She had been seated but a few minutes in the car that 
was to take her to Mamaroneck — the station at which she 
usually got out — when she was joined by Mr. Jack Old- 
mixon. There cannot be in a place, crowded as every 
car is on the late trains that go out on the New Haven 
Railroad every Saturday afternoon, any conversation but 
SDch as may be heard without restraint by every passenger 
within ten feet of the speakers. Barbara was in the first 
place surprised at Jack's appearance ; he looked low-spir- 
ited, and as though he was suffering. In fact, he at once 
apologized for what he called his stupidity in having 
passed Barbara several times without seeing her, by say- 
ing that he had a bad headache. However, by the time 
they arrived at Mamaroneck he declared that, in spite of 
the noise and the increased effort he had been obliged to 
make in talking so as to allow what he said to be heard, 
he had gotten entirely rid of his headache, and never had 
felt better in his life. 



^ 



264 ME. OLDMIXON. 

Ben, a stout Westcliester lad that Mr. Henscliel liad 
hired to look after the horse and do all other kinds of 
outside work, was at the station with the little candage, 
and was to run home through the fields while Barbara 
drove Jack by the road, a distance of nearly three miles. 
Now that they were rattling along over the hard, smooth 
country road, Jack felt that he might say some things 
that he could not have said in the cars without having 
them heard by twenty or more people. 

" I'm very glad to see you again, MissHenschel,'' he 
began ; ''I've missed those delightful morning sittings 
ever so much, though doubtless you were bored by them 
more than your good-nature allowed you to show." 

'' Did I look as though I were at all bored ?" inquired 
Barbara, with a smile. '' If I did, my looks did me in- 
justice." 

"No, you did not I" exclaimed Jack, with emphasis, 
"but it is very pleasant for me to hear you say you 
were not wearied." 

" But you talked so much that 1 could not get tired." 

" You might have got tired of my talking." 

" Perhaps I should have been if you had always talked 
about the same thing ; but your range of subjects was so 
very extensive that I was kept wide-awake, wondering 
what was to come next." 

" I had to do that to get the facial expression I wanted. 
I tried many subjects before I succeeded." 

" Oh, indeed ! Then I was showing ofE for your 
benefit !" 

" I'm afraid that is an honest way of putting it," re- 
joined Jack, with a laugh. "But, then, in art, as in 
everything else, ^jmia coronat opus.^ " 

"I don't know what that means," said Barbara, 



^^ WELCOME TO LAS ATA I" 265 

^^but I'm sure it's something horrible. There now!" 
as the wheels went with a bump over a big stone that 
lay in the way, ''that comes fromyonr bothering a coun- 
try girl's head with Latin. While I was trying to 
make out what you said, I missed seeing that stone. 
But pray, what subject did you finally decide upon as 
the one that made me show oflE to most advantage ?" 

''Ah ! Miss Henschel, there is just where I think I 
have shown what little talent I possess. I tried at first 
to get a particular expression, and then I changed my 
mind, and endeavored to make your face a combination of 
all your expressions. Tou know an English scientist 
has been photographing groups of particular kinds of 
criminals and other sorts of people. He takes, for in- 
stance, the photographs of fifty burglars. Then he 
makes a compound picture of these fifty photographs, and 
obtains a representation of the typical burglar. Tou 
look at that, and though it is not exactly like any one of 
the individuals taken, it is the sum total of them all, and 
from it you would know any one of the rest at sight ; and 
80 on with murderers, pickpockets, and others. Now, 
that's what I tried to do with you, Miss Henschel. Tou 
are fifty persons — that is, you have fifty dLflEerent expres- 
sions — and everybody that knows you and that sees the 
picture sees an expression he has seen on your face. If 1 
had taken you in any one of them, don't you see it would 
only have represented the fiftieth part of you ? That 
wouldn't have done at all, would it?" 

" Not unless a part is better than the whole," replied 

Barbara, laughing merrily, "and perhaps in this case it 

is. Tou know, with some things the less you have of 

them the better." 

" True ; but you are not one of them. Look out !" as 
12 



266 ICB. OLDMixoir. 

the wheels barely missed going into the ditch at the side 
of the road. ^^ A little more, and we should have been 
npset." 

** Yes, and then yon'd have had fifty pieces of a yonng 
woman to pick up in reality ; bntyon see, Mr. Oldmixon, 
what comes of trying to do two things at once, when either 
is sufficient to require all the power of the female mind. 
But finish telling me about the picture." 

* * I merely endeavored to combine your fifty expressions 
into one which represented them alL IVegot yon now, 
Miss Henschel, not as you are at any one moment, but as 
you are at fifty moments. I wrote you part of what 
Archer said of it, but I didn't tell you what he said of 
your likeness." 

^^ Something nice, I suppose, or you wouldn't mention 
it." 

*' Tes, it was nice. But Archer is one of the most em- 
phatic men I ever knew. He's a wicked old fellow, too. " 

" Then, what he said was nice, emphatic, and wicked I 
What a remarkable combination ! I am curious to hear 
it." 

'' Shall I tell you ?" 

Barbara looked at him for a moment. A pleasant smile 
was on his face. '^ 1 think I can trust you not to tell me 
anything I ought not to hear," she said. 

" Thanks I He said, 'Oldmixon, that's the sort of a 
face a man is ready to die and to lose his soul for.' " 

Barbara was silent. Things were going altogether too 
fast, and she thought she must put a brake on them, or 
there was no telling what would come next ; and yet it 
was all very pleasant — so pleasant, that she could not re- 
member that she had ever passed so delightful a half hour 
as that that was now coming to an end. Tes, it was 




*' WELCOME TO LASATA !'' 267 

coming to an end, for she was within a hundred yards of 
the house, and she could see her father's tall form as he 
walked up and down the front porch, waiting their arri- 
val. It was at least three minutes since Jack had told 
her of Archer's remark, and during all that time she had 
been deep in thought ; still, it was not too late for her to 
say something that would express her disapproval of such 
speeches. She was on the point of saying, '^ I should be 
very sorry if any one would be so foolish and wicked for 
me," and then the idea occurred to her that it would be 
very absurd for her to assume that Mr. Archer had her 
in his mind when he spoke, and that to him the face had 
no individuality, but simply represented a conception of 
the artist's mind. Yes, it would certainly be better for 
her to say nothing, and at the moment she came to this 
determination she drove through the gateway and up to 
the side of the porch, where her father stood waiting to 
receive them. 

" You're a little late, Bab," he said, as Ben took the 
reins from her hand. ^' Welcome to Lasata, Mr. Oldmix- 
on !" Jack was out in an instant, and was giving his 
hand to Barbara in order to help her to alight from the 
carriage before Mr. Henschel had ceased speaking. Then 
he turned and shook hands warmly with his host, ex- 
pressed his great delight at having been invited to Lasata 
— the meaning of which name had been explained to him 
by Miss Hens6hel — and passed high encomiums on that 
young lady's skill in driving. 

Barbara, who had not quite got through kissing her 
father, laughed at this last part of Jack's speech. 

" Yes," she said, '^ my skill certainly saved us from 
being upset ; for if I had had a little less we should assured- 
ly have gone over. Therefore, father, thank your stars 



268 ME. OLDMIXON. 

that yon have a daughter that knows enough about man- 
aging a horse not to kill either herself or the gentleman 
she is driving." 

"She'll kill me," thought Jack, "if she refuses me 
to-morrow, for to-morrow 1 shall have to ask her to be 
my wife. 1 didn't intend to go quite that far this time, 
but she's so lovely and sweet that, by Heaven ! I can't 
resist any longer." 

Then, when he entered his room to get ready for din- 
ner and saw the model of the silver fox on its pedestal, 
he was so delighted that he rushed back to the hall 
where he had left Barbara talking with her father, to 
express his joy. 

" 1 can only now thank you for the remembrance," he 
said; " 1 will tell you to-morrow, when I have examined it 
by daylight, what I think of it as a work of art. It was 
very kind. Miss Henschel, for now I know that those 
hours in which 1 was painting my picture were not wearir 
some to you." 

He took her hand in his while he was speaking, and 
held it till he had finished. Then he raised it to his lips, 
and without another word went back to his room. 

"He's a graceful man, Bab," said Mr. Henschel, look- 
ing well enough pleased with the act of courtesy, while 
Barbara, totally unused to such a proceeding, seemed 
doubtful as to how she should regard it. ' ' No gentleman 
of the court of Denmark could have done it better. I 
saw the king kiss the queen's hand once, but he was 
awkward compared to Mr. John Oldmixon." 




CHAPTER XVIII. 
"why should she not?" 

There was no chance that evening for Jack to make 
even an approach to the citadel he had determined to cap- 
ture if he could. Besides, he wanted still a little time for 
reflection as to the best way in which to make his attack. 
A great deal, he knew, depended upon the tactics, just 
as it does with an army about to make an onslaught on 
another army. If it bungles it is very apt to be de- 
feated, even though it be of superior force. 

He had had a better opportunity while at dinner and 
during the three hours after that meal, which they all 
spent together in the library, for becoming acquainted 
with Barbara than he had ever before enjoyed. The con- 
versation had been devoted to a variety of subjects in 
which he and Mr. Henschel and Barbara were interested, 
and there was scarcely one upon wliich she had not had 
something to say. Jack was not a very deep young man, 
but he was well educated in a certain direction, and his 
residence abroad had given him the opportunity — which 
he had not neglected — of picking up a good deal of in- 
formation upon subjects a knowledge of which goes very 
far toward giving a man a reputation for being well-in- 
formed, and still further in the direction of making him 
agreeable in conversation. He was, therefore, sufficiently 
competent to form an opinion of Barbara's acquirements 
and good sense. He had made up his mind on these 



270 ME. OLDMIXON. 

pointfi some time ago, but this night had enabled him to 
confirm his opinion beyond all danger of reversal. To be 
sure, a young man in love does not approach without prej- 
udice the consideration of the subject of the intellectual 
qualifications possessed by the object of his heart's desires. 
As a rule, he is utterly unable to see anything in her 
most insane moods and imbecile actions that is not indica- 
tive of the highest degree of mental development. But 
this was not the case with Jack. He had fallen in love 
with Barbara by no means altogether because she was 
pretty. If she had not possessed a charming mind, he 
knew very well that she would not be beautiful. It was 
her mentality speaking through her face that made her 
countenance such an enchanting picture to look upon. 
If Barbara had been a fool, she would have been a very 
commonplace-looking young woman, and then Jack 
certainly would not have fallen in love with her. 

Barbara, as the reader already knows, had not gone 
deeply into learning ; what she knew, however, she knew 
well, and her range of subjects, though probably not so 
extensive as that of which the young lady graduates of 
Macassar College are mistresses, was large enough, and 
she had the inestimable advantage of knowing something 
below the surface of the matters she had studied. 

Jack was, of course, delighted. He had come to Lasata 
expecting to be delighted, and he had not been disappoint- 
ed. To every word that Barbara spoke he listened with 
the most rapt attention. She had those predominating 
attractions in a woman — a clear and distinct enunciation 
and a soft, melodious voice. Consequently, though she 
never spoke in a loud tone, every word was as distinctly 
heard as though it had been gently spoken directly into 
the ear. It was happiness, therefore, for Jack^ who had 




"why should she kot?" 271 

been for many days past in almost constant association 
with his uncle, and the unwilling recipient of that old 
gentleman's snarls and groans over the state of the world 
generally, and of his nephew Hogarth in particular, to 
sit in this peaceful atmosphere, where all was gentleness 
and refined repose, and listen to the mellowed voice and 
the musical laugh of the woman he thought the lovehest 
in all the world. 

It was late — ^late, that is, for Lasata — when the party 
broke up. Barbara held out her hand to Jack as she bid 
him good-night and wished him pleasant dreams. So in- 
toxicated was he with the impression she had made upon 
him, that if they had been alone he would at once have 
told the story of his love. As it was, there was nothing 
to do but to make some pleasant commonplace speech, 
and to wait for a better opportunity. He pressed her 
hand a little, but of course there was no response through 
that medium, and. then he went into his own room. 

Like a skilful and far-seeing general on the eve of an 
important battle, Jack sat down to think over the situa- 
tion of affairs and to lay out his plan of operations for the 
next day. It has been said that the woman does not live 
and never has lived that could conceal her love from the 
man that possesses her heart. Probably this is true, but 
it is equally so of the other sex. When a man loves a 
woman, the woman, if she be not a fool, will certainly dis- 
cover the fact. Either may pretend to a love they do not 
feel, and thus deceive not only the immature, but even 
those that are experienced in the wiles of men and wom- 
en ; but when the passion is really present, it will reveal 
itself in spite of all eflEorts that may be made to keep it 
secret. Indeed, nothing so effectually makes it known 
as the attempts that may be made to conceal it. The 



272 ME. OLDMIXON. 

struggle is so wildly energetic and the resalts so entirely 
one-sided, that he or she mnst be very blind or very cal- 
lous if the true state of afiEairs is not soon made apparent. 

Jack threw himself into the comfortable chair that had 
been provided for his use, and gave himself up, with as 
much disinterestedness as was possible under the circum- 
stances, to a calm and impartial review of the position in 
which he was placed and of the events and situations that 
had brought him to the present crisis. As the result of 
his cogitations, he arrived at the belief that Barbara loved 
him ; but there was so much apprehension and fear 
that he might be mistaken in this conviction, that, on the 
whole, the effect was not so consolatory as he could have 
wished. As is usual in such cases, he was afraid to trust 
implicitly to the evidence of his own senses. He was 
very much in the position of a physician that attempts to 
prescribe for himself, and whose judgment is almost in- 
variably warped by the personal interest he has in the 
case. Still, after making all due allowances for the inev- 
itable errors in this direction to which he was subject, he 
could not fail to see that Barbara was kindly disposed tow- 
ard him, and that this bias was so strongly pronounced, 
that if it was not already love as he understood the sub- 
ject, it practically amounted to the same thing in the 
heart of a girl as true and as pure as was Barbara Hen- 
schel. 

But there was a family matter — one that had within the 
past few days given him much anxiety — which he felt he 
was bound, as an honest man and a gentleman, to place 
fully before Barbara when he asked her to be his wife. 
It was this that had made him look badly, and as though 
he were ill, when Barbara and he had met in the car on 
their way to Lasata, and which he had explained by alleg- 




"why should she not?'' 273 

ing a headache. His head did ache. There had been 
quite enough since he had last seen her to make both his 
head and his heart ache, and for all that he could perceive 
to the contrary, there was ample warrant for the be- 
lief that they would ache still more before certain mat- 
ters were settled. All this he intended that Barbara 
should know. It should never be in the power of any 
one to say that be had induced her to promise to become 
his wife when there were circumstances existing that, had 
they been brought to her knowledge, might have caused 
her to turn from him with horror. 

In the mean time the woman of whom he was thinking, 
and with whom his happiness was so intimately bound, 
was sitting by the window of a room that overlooked the 
Sound. The night was bleak ; there was no moon, and 
the stars were obscured by thick black clouds that looked 
as though they might be full of snow. Far off in the 
distance, on the opposite shore of the Sound, was a light- 
house upon which there was a revolving lautern, that she 
had ascertained, by actual count, flashed its bright bar of 
light over the water every two minutes. She sat watch- 
ing this object, her thoughts being a strange medley, of 
which the light, Jack, and herself were the central fea- 
tures, and wondering how the affair which she now felt 
was hers — ^for good or evil, she did not know which — 
would end. "Would it be always bright, as was the light 
when the open side of the lantern was turned toward her, 
or would it be dark, as was the lantern when the opaque 
side prevented the emergence of the rays from the lamp ? 
Or would it be for a while light and then dark, and so on 
to the end ? 

She knew Jack loved her, and she felt sure that if he 

were given the opportunity he would tell her so before 
12* 




274 MR. OLDMIXON, 

the time came round on Monday morning for him to go 
back to New York. She had resolved that nothing shoxdd 
ever induce her to marry him, but now she felt the de- 
termination becoming less, as she found that she loved 
him more than she had thought she should ever love him. 
She felt that it was now possible that she would marry 
him if he asked her, and she found herself with the ques- 
tions in her heart. Why should she not ? What did she 
owe to his uncle that she should sacrifice her happiness 
and that of the man she loved for any fancied loyalty to 
him ? True, she knew that Jack was to be his uncle's 
heir, and she thought he was ignorant of this fact. She 
had virtually promised not to speak of anything Mr. 
01dm ixon had told her, and therefore it left room for the 
suspicion in the minds of some persons, perhaps even in 
that of Jack himself, and certainly in that of Mr. Old- 
mixon, that she had taken advantage of her knowledge to 
inveigle this presumptively rich young man into a mar- 
riage when he did not know his pecuniary value. She 
might tell him, she thought, and then he would be free, 
with his eyes open, to do as he pleased ; but reflection told 
her that this would be dishonorable, and no woman ever 
had a more chivalrous sense of honor than had Barbara 
Henscliel — a sense in which her sex is, as a rule, deficient. 
But what were the opinions of old Mr. Oldmixon and all 
the rest of the world when set up against Jack's ? And 
again the question came with irresistible force, Why 
should she make him and herself miserable to please 
other people ? True, why should she ? Had she been 
disposed to do so, she would have been the only woman 
within my knowledge willing to do such a thing. Women 
jE^^agerly sacrifice themselves for the man they love, 
J^ ^KB will not sacrifice him. The women that go 



^^WHY SHOULD SHE NOT?" 275 

into convents and kill themselves for love are either those 
whose passion is not returned, or thej are insane melan- 
cholies that have brooded over delusions until their reason 
has been overwhelmed. No woman of sane mind, know- 
ing that the love she receives is as warm as that that she 
gives, ever sacrificed herself and her lover to an idea or a 
principle. She is not going to make him imhappy, what- 
ever else she may do. She may allege a thousand rea- 
sons why she should not marry him, but the real reason is 
either that she does not love him or that she knows he 
does not love her, and this she generally keeps to herself. 
If these be absent, there will be no holding back or 
going into convents or a resort to Paris green, but she 
will marry him by hook or by crook, openly or secretly, 
though all the world should stand in the way. Barbara 
felt very much in that way. She now perceived that when 
she had spoken so decidedly to her father to the effect that 
nothing could persuade her to be Mr. John Oldmixon's 
wife, that she did not love him as she now did. She 
knew now that she should be obliged to marry him if he 
asked her, and if she was entirely satisfied that his love was 
good and true. Doubtless there would be more or less 
trouble ; but her lover was a man who had shown his abil- 
ity to hold his own in the face of adverse circumstances, 
and even to make his way in spite of them ; and she knew 
that she had a force of her own that would enable her to 
yield efficient assistance. She was not one to succumb to 
the attacks of adversity. She had always shown pluck 
and determination when these qualities had been re- 
quired, and though she had never suffered any great 
misfortune, she had the mental organization that is 
ready to meet misfortune whenever it presents itself. 
"I love him," she said to herself, just ^ the light 




276 MB. OLDMIXON. 

from over tiie Sound flashed in her eyes, " and that's the 
end of the contest. It's gone," as darkness once more 
prevailed on the water, " bat it will shine again. Oh, 
Jack" — he had told her that his intimate friends called 
him by that name — '* I tried my best not to love yon, but 
it was no use. I thought you loved me almost from the 
first, and now 1 know you do, just as surely as though 
you had already told me. And if you do, I'll be yours. 
Jack, even if it should be wi'ong for me to marry you. 
It can't be very wrong ; I don't see how it can. If he 
loves me and I love him, whose business is it but ours?" 
And with this satisfactory conclusion of the matter, Bar- 
bara went to bed, and with a much better prospect of 
getting a good night's rest than had Mr. Jack Oldmixon 
in the room just under hers. 

As a matter of fact. Jack did not sleep well. He did 
not go to bed till he had exhausted all the capabilities of 
the subject that occupied his mind, and had discovered 
that there were no new lights in which he could view it. 
Indeed, it would have been a very wonderful topic if he 
had been able to extract anything original out of it, for 
he had thought of scarcely anything else, since his last 
meeting with Barbara, in the old shop in which he had 
painted his picture. There had been other matters forced 
upon his attention and they had worried him, but he 
had tried to dismiss them from his mind, and though not 
altogether with success, yet to such purpose that they 
rarely obtruded themselves upon him, and then only as 
passing shadows, that fled away as quickly as they had 
come. 

The next morning, in spite of a rather restless night, 
he looked and felt better than at any time since his return 
from Annapolis. He was one of that class of persons who 



"why should she kot?" 277 

become perfectly composed, when a crisis that concerns 
them has come, although they may be greatly disturbed 
while awaiting it. He had taken occasion before leaving 
his room to make a thorough study of the silver fox ; 
just as conscientious a one as though he was capable of 
passing an impartial judgment on that work of art. I 
am afraid that no matter how bad it might have been, 
Jack would have found something in it to admire ; as it 
was, however, it would have been impossible for him to 
go wrong in any laudation of Barbara's first work that 
he might give. It was, as Mr. Maurice had said, a pro- 
duction that would have made a reputation for any sculp- 
tor, and Jack was fully competent to discover as much 
for himself. Of course, it was a pleasure for him to give 
his opinion, as he did at the breakfast-table, and equally 
a pleasure for Barbara and her father to hear him express 
it with such evident heartiness and sense of its truth as 
he exhibited. 

The day was by no means an unpleasant one, consid- 
ering the bad prospect for clear weather that the night 
before had offered. It was not warm, but the sun was 
shining brightly, and there was no cold, cutting wind to 
make walking uncomfortable. 

There was at the distance of about a mile from Lasata 
a little church to which Mr. Henschel and his daughter 
were in the habit of going every Sunday morning. Of 
course, he had been brought up according to the tenets 
of the Church of Denmark, which, though mainly Luther- 
an in its doctrines, has nevertheless its bishops, with an 
apostolic succession even more unquestioned than that 
of the Church of England, and its Protestant Episcopal 
daughter in the United States. On his arrival in their 
country, they had looked about among the forty or more 



278 MB. OLDMIXOK. 

religionfl sects that they found ready to receive them 
into their folds, and had come to the condosion that the 
Episcopal came nearer to what they had been accustomed 
to at home than any of the others. They had accord- 
ingly given in their adhesion to that ecclesiastical organ- 
ization, and had taken care that their children should be 
educated in its communion. 

Barbara took her religion as she did everything else — 
healthily. She had been confirmed, and she devoutly be- 
lieved all the articles of the Christian faith, but she be- 
lieved them according to her own light, and not that of 
any one else. She found nothing in the doctrines or ritual 
of the Church that required her to dispense with her own 
reasoning powers and to commit her judgment and her 
conscience to others. She did not, therefore, do her duty 
to God and to her neighbor through any fear of eternal 
damnation if she neglected it, or hope of everlasting hap- 
piness as a reward for its performance. She did it be- 
cause it was right. She was happy in her religion. If 
she had believed that the Creator of the world would pun- 
ish eternally any of the beings that he had put into it, 
she would not have been happy. Into minute theologi- 
cal points she did not care to venture. She went to 
church and said her prayers, and felt happier for the 
exercise. ^ 

The fact of Jack's being in the house was no reason 
why she should not go to church that morning. There 
was nothing to do but to ask him to accompany her father 
and herself, and there was nothing for Jack to do but to 
accept. If the truth must be told of this young man, it 
must be said that he was not much of a church-goer. In 
fact, religion had never been one of the strong points of 
the Oldmixons ; and though, in answer to Barbara's ques- 



*'WHY SHOXJLD SHE l^^OT ?" 279 

tion, he said that his mother had been a member of the 
Church of Scotland, he was forced to admit that her early 
death had prevented her giving him much religions in- 
struction, and that he had never sought for it elsewhere. 
He added, however, that he was perfectly willing, nay 
anxious, to take his first lesson that morning, under the 
auspices of Miss Henschel. 

It had been decided that as the morning was pleasant 
they would walk, so at ten o'clock they departed for the 
church. Jack thought, as he started off by Barbara's side, 
that never had she looked more beautiful than she did 
then, with her dark brown frock and seal-skin jacket, and 
a black broad-brimmed felt hat with a red- winged black- 
bird — of her own mounting, as she told him — set in front, 
with its wings in the attitude of flight. If Mr. Henschel 
were only out of the way, what better chance for laying 
his heart and hand at Barbara's feet than would be the 
walk home from church ? But how to get him out of the 
way was a matter that appeared to be at first sight alto- 
gether beyond his powers. Jack was not much of a 
diplomatist ; his nature was altogether too frank for the 
double-dealing or secretiveness necessary for the one 
that works by intrigue. But this very deficiency in the 
power of device was often the means of his obtaining 
success when others, in like circumstances, by using 
strategy would have ignomiaiously failed. Upon the 
present occasion he wanted Mr. Henschel out of the 
way, and it did not take him long to arrive at the con- 
clusion that the best way to secure that gentleman's 
absence was to tell him all the essential facts ef the situ- 
ation, and request him to allow his daughter and him — 
Jack Oldmixon — ^to walk home from church without the 
presence of a third party. They were just passing out 



280 ME. OLDMIXON. 

of the gate when this idea occurred to Jack, and to act 
npon it at once was a necessary concomitant. 

*' May I say a word to you, Mr. Henschel ?'' he said. 
"I beg your pardon, Miss Henschel," he continued, 
addressing Barbara, *'butif you will kindly continue to 
switch at that cedar-tree with your parasol for two or 
three minutes I will promise to bring your father back 
in safety." He led the way round the house to the front 
porch, and then, without any preliminary words, opened 
his case. 

"Mr. Henschel," he said, ''I don't know whether 
you have observed the fact or not, but I love your 
daughter and I want to make her my wife. My time 
here is very short, and I propose, with your consent, to tell 
her this morning what is in my heart, and to ask her 
to marry me." 

Mr. Henschel knew perfectly well that Jack was in 
love with Barbara, and, as the reader knows, he fully ap- 
proved of that young gentleman as a husband for his 
daughter, but the present announcement took him by 
surprise, and it was a moment or two before he could suf- 
ficiently recover his presence of mind to give an answer. 
When, however, he did speak, there was no uncertain 
sound in his voice or meaning in his words. He believed, 
in spite of what Barbara had told him, that she would 
eventually be willing to marry Jack, and he thought that 
the last twenty-four hours had been suflBcient to produce 
a weakening in the detennination she had expressed to 
him. He had noticed that even when most emphatic in 
the declaration of her intention never to become Jack's 
wife, she had not denied loving him. There was prob- 
ably, he thought, some chivalric idea connected with 
Jack's heirship of old Mr. Oldmixon's estate that caused 



*'WHT SHOXTLD SHE NOT?" 281 

ter to take an exaggerated and mistaken view of her duty, 
and that would probably disappear under the cogency of 
her lover's arguments. He held out his hand to Jack, 
and, of course, it was grasped warmly, for it was evident 
before a word was spoken what the answer would be. 

" Mr. Oldmixon," said Mr. Henschel, while the tears 
started to his eyes, * ' I am not so old as to have lost my per- 
ceptive faculties. I have known for some time that you 
loved Barbara, and if I had not approved of you as a hus- 
band for my girl, I wouldn't have asked you to come 
here. It would not be proper for me, in the absence of 
absolute knowledge, to say anything about your chances, 
but I am sure you can trust her to tell you the truth. 
Ton can speak to her whenever you choose, and I hope 
she'll take you for her husband. She's a good girl, and, 
what's as important in a girl as it is in a man, she's got a 
good stock of common-sense. 1 suppose you want me 
to get out of the way this morning, and give you a chance 
to speak to her?" 

^' Yes, that's what I want," said Jack, who had all the 
time kept hold of Mr. Henschel 's hand, and who now 
gave it an extra grasp. " You know how grateful I am 
for your confidence in me. I have asked you for the 
greatest treasure you possess, and I don't believe you will 
ever have cause to regret having given her to me. " 

** With her consent, of course," interrupted Mr. Hen- 
schel. ' ' You may tell her I approve, after she has accept- 
ed you ; but no persuasions through me." 

** I will say nothing of your consent till she has given 
me hers," said Jack, with an eagerness that showed his 
wiUingness to promise almost anythmg that might be 
asked of him. 

**Now that that matter is settled," observed Mr. 



282 MB. OLDMIXOK. 

Henschel, with a happy smile on his face, " what further 
is it that yon want me to do ?" 

'^ I want yon," said Jack, not in the least abashed, ^^ to 
leave us at the church door when the service is over. 
You can probably," continued this outspoken young 
man, " find some one in the congregation to whom yon 
would like to say a few words. There's the doctor, for 
instance ; you might tell him how well the new drains 
work." 

*' The doctor I Doctor Maddox I He hasn't been in- 
side of a church for twenty years, and he told me a day 
or two since that he never expected to go again. I 
might say a word to the clergyman. But," he added, 
with a slight laugh, ^^ it might be too soon to do that yet ; 
however, I'll find some excuse, never fear." 

* ' Thanks. Now, let us join Barbara — Miss Henschel, I 
mean," correcting himself ; " she will wonder what has 
become of us," 



CHAPTER XIX. 



'^I LOVE YOU." 



The little church which the Henschels attended was 
constructed with a due regard to the principles of ecclesi- 
ological art. In the first place, there were no shams 
about it, and, in the next, no vain attempt had been made 
by the architect to copy, on a diminutive scale, any fa- 
mous church edifice. 1 have seen in one of the largest 
cities of this country what is called an exact imitation of 
St. Paul's in London. It is a brick building, perhaps at 
the outside fifty by a hundred feet in extent, and sur- 
mounted by wooden cupolas covered with tin. Of course 
it is an abomination in the sight of every person with a 
soul above that of the snobbish architect that built it. 

St. Ethelwold's made no pretension to being any bet- 
ter than it really was. It was built of a dark granite, and 
in the early English style, and was devoid of plaster, the 
bare stone, laid as it was in courses, producing a much more 
impressive effect than if it had been covered up and sten- 
cilled all over with gilt crosses, or lambs holding flags 
with their forelegs, or other symbols. 

Jack sat next to Barbara ; she gave him a prayer-book, 
and all through the service found the places for him. No 
one could have been more devout, so far as externals went, 
than was he. He stood up and. sat down, and bowed his 
head, and even made the responses, under the guidance of 
his fuglewoman, in a way that would have done credit 



284 MB. OLDMIXON. 

to a much more habitaal worshipper. And, indeed, Jack 
felt all the solemnity of the occasion with a depth and a 
sincerity that he would not a month before have thought 
it possible he could feel in any church in Christendom. 
Although, as we have seen, not a church-goer. Jack was 
not deficient in that natural religion in which all well- 
constituted men, even though they be agnostics, abound. 
The solemn, the beautiful, the reverential in sight and 
in sound never failed to move him, and to excite in him 
chivalrous or other noble thoughts in consonance with the 
emotions that swayed him. Now, the dim light entering 
through stained-glass windows, the measured voice of the 
clergyman, the lofty words of the ritual, the spirit of 
adoration that pervaded the congregation, the swelling 
sound of the organ as it pealed forth its sacred melodies, 
and, above all, the worshipping woman kneeling at his 
side, whose low, sweet notes fell on his ears with a power 
that brought the tears to his eyes, all excited in his 
heart emotions that made him feel, for the time being, at 
least, as though he were lifted up from a world of sin and 
borne into a sphere where everything was pure and good. 
'^ Lord, have mercy upon us, and incline our hearts to 
keep this law." He glanced down at Barbara as these 
words of supplication came from her lips in response to the 
clergyman in the chancel pronouncing each commandment 
of the Decalogue. Her head was bowed upon her closed 
hands, which rested on the pew-railing before her. He 
could not see her face, but the graceful curve of her white 
neck, the well-rounded outlines of her figure — she had 
taken off her seal-skin jacket — the knot of red hair — ^the 
loveliest hair he thought that he had ever seen — ^that was 
not covered by the shapely little hat with its dainty 
bird that her own dear hands had mounted, the earnest- 



(i-r T/^TT-CI ^/^TT " 



I LOVE YOU." 285 

ness with which each prayer was uttered, the distinctness 
of her enunciation, impressed Jack with such a sense of 
her beauty and goodness, that he wondered if it were 
really possible that she could ever be his. He had never 
felt his own unworthiness so keenly as he did then. It 
seemed to him for a moment as though it would be almost 
a sin to link with his own the life of the gentle girl 
against whose name in the Book of Life the recorcUng 
angel had entered nothing but good, and yet who humbly 
prayed to God for strength to keep his commandments. 
How infinitely better than he was this kneeling, adoring 
woman, who laid bare her heart to the Maker of all things, 
as she might have done to her earthly father, and suppli- 
cated him for a power she did not need ! *^ Lord, have 
mercy upon us, and write all these thy laws in our hearts, 
we beseech thee. " Were they not already written in her 
heart ? Doubtless she had never broken a single one of 
them, while he, who had certainly violated two or three, 
perhaps more, had never, so far as he could remember, 
uttered a prayer for forgiveness or for strength to resist 
temptation. Well, hereafter it should be different with 
him. Her God should be his God, if she should grant 
him her love. Yes, for he was willing to bargain with 
Providence, or, in fact, with any other power that could 
give him what he desired. Emotional religion is not, 
after all, of the most elevated kind, or the most perma- 
nent in its duration. 

Jack listened to the sermon, but with less attention 
than he had bestowed on the service. The clergyman 
was young — younger than himself — and it was not likely 
that a man like Jack, who had seen a good deal of the 
world in various parts of its surface, could look up to him 
with sufficient confidence to accept him as a moral guide. 



286 HB. OLDHLZOK. 

Jack was snre that he knew more about the hninan heart 
than did the speaker, and, moreover, that his knowledge 
came from personal experience, while that of the other 
came from books. It was very much as it is with the 
young men and young women who nowadays take to 
writing novels as soon as they have escaped from col- 
lege or boarding-school, and who undertake to describe 
life and character from what they have read in other 
novels or have seen enacted on the stage by actors, 
who themselves have gotten their small knowledge from 
books. Clergymen, like novelists, should be over fifty 
years of age. 

It must be confessed that while the young theologian 
was laying down the religious and moral law with a pos- 
itiveness that ought to have been the result of personal 
experience, Jack was not so successful in following him as 
were many others of the congregation, who were accus- 
tomed to receive the words of warning and advice that 
fell from the lips of the ministrant as though they were 
veritable droppings from the sanctuary. He was think- 
ing how he should begin the observations that he had to 
address to Barbara. At first he was disposed to adopt 
the same plan that had proved so successful with her 
father — that is, to come right out with the gist of the 
whole matter by telling her that he loved her. That, 
after all, was the one thing before which all the rest that 
he had to say went down like grass before a lawn-mower. 
But, upon reflection, he came to the conclusion that it 
would be better to inform her fully of certain family 
affairs that troubled him and that might influence her in 
the answer she might have to give him. Better to start 
squarely by letting her know just who he was and what 
disadvantages might attend upon marriage with him. 



'*I LOVE YOU.' 287 

The advantages might safely be left to her to discover 
for herself. 

The sermon was not a long one, and they rose at its 
conclusion to receive the blessing, and then to the music 
of the organ to make their way out of the church. But 
just as they had reached the door, the sexton came up to 
Mr. Henschel and informed him that Mr. Wilton, the 
rector, wished to speak with him in the vestry. 

^^He wants to see me about becoming one of the 
wardens in the place of Mr. Holtby, who died last 
week," said Mr. Henschel. *'He spoke about it last 
Sunday, but 1 was not then prepared to give him an 
answer. Don't wait for me," he continued, with a sig- 
nificant glance at Jack. " Walk slowly, and perhaps 1 
may overtake you. If 1 do not, I shall not be far be- 
hind you." 

Nothing could have been more fortunate than this in- 
tervention. Jack and Barbara walked slowly, and in a 
few minutes found that all the rest of the congregation, 
most of whom came in vehicles of some kind or other, 
had passed them. At last they were alone. 

They had talked of the sermon and of other indifferent 
subjects, till at last. Jack looking up and down the road, 
made the discovery that no one was in sight. His time 
had come, and then he found that all his preconceived 
plans of operation had vanished from his mind as com- 
pletely as though they had never found a lodgment there, 
and that, after all, he must depend upon the inspiration of 
the moment. When did an earnest man ever fail at such 
a time ? No one was ever more in earnest than was 
Jack. Without stopping to think or to arrange his ideas 
in any logical order, he began with what came first in his 
mind, and went on with a degree of volubiUty that, had 



288 HB. OLDHIXON. 

he been capable at the time of judging, would have 
astonished him. 

" At last we are alone," he said, ^* and at last 1 have 
the opportunity of telling you what of all things in the 
world is most in my heart. It will take but a moment 
to say it. It is all contained in three little words — * I love 
you.' " 

Having gotten thus far — and it must be admitted that 
anything else would only have been an amplification of 
his ^* three little words" — Jack stopped, not only talking 
but walking, and, at the same instant, Barbara stopped 
also. From the time that he had spoken the first word, 
she knew of course what was coming. There was noth- 
ing else that, after such a preamble, could have come but 
the words '' I love you," or others to that effect. For a 
moment she felt weak and faint, but it was only for a 
moment, and before he had half finished his short speech 
she was taking in his words with a kind of calm delight 
that appeared to pervade her whole being. When he 
stopped walking she stopped as a matter of course ; it 
seemed to her that that was of itself a tacit admission 
that in future he was to be her guide. She had not raised 
her parasol, but she held it in her hand, and swung it 
from side to side, while her eyes were apparently engaged 
in diligently watching its oscillations. 

*' Did you hear what I said ?" resumed Jack. 

" Yes ; " very low, but yet very distinctly. 

" Have you nothing to say to me ?" 

She raised her eyes, and Jack saw that they were swim- 
ming with tears ; and thus, before she spoke a word, he 
knew that the victory was essentially won. 

" Yes," she said at last, *^ I heard what you said, and 
I am very glad, for — for — I think I love you too. But 




*^I LOVE YOU." 289 

your uncle ? Perhaps he may have other views for 
you." 

Jack looked up and down the road, and seeing that 
there was no one in sight, took Barbara's head between 
his hands, and bending over — ^f or though she was tall, he 
was a good deal taller— kissed her lips. 

'' I know I am not worthy of yon, my darling," he 
said ; ^' I was thinking all the time 1 was in church how 
thoroughly beneath you I am, but I'll try to make myself 
better. You've made me very happy ; I've loved you, 
dear, ever since I first saw you. I never saw a woman 
as good and as lovely as you. And now you're mine ! I 
can scarcely believe it " — and he kissed her again, as 
though to naake sure that she really had said " yes " to 
him. 

Barbara smiled. '' Yes, I am sure I love you with all 
my heart," she said. " But there is something in the 
way that I have no right to mention to you. I don't 
know that it can come between us, but I wish it were 
not there, for if it were away my happiness would be 
complete." 

'' Something in the way 1" exclaimed Jack, his thoughts 
at once reverting to his family affairs. "What is it, 
dear ?" fearing, as he asked the question, that she would 
tell him of something she had heard about Hogarth or his 
uncle. 

" Oh, I cannot tell you ; I promised never to mention 
it." 

'' Well, dear," said Jack, a little crestfallen, " if you 
really made a promise not to speak of it, you are, of 
course, bound to keep your promise." 

"I — I don't think I promised in words," faltered 
Barbara. " In fact, when the statement was about being 

13 



290 MB. OLDMIXON. 

made to me, and the gentleman said, ^ Yoa ranst promise 
not to tell this to anybody but your father/ 1 didn't say 
anything at all, but I allowed him to go on and tell me, 
and that was the same thing as promising, wasnH it ?" 

She raised her eyes again to Jack's, as she asked thiB 
question, and looked at him inquiringly and doubtfully. 
He had never seen her more beautiful. 

'^ Wait one moment," exclaimed the enraptured young 
man ; '' 1 can't answer any questions in the presence of 
such loveliness as yours. Oh, Barbara I my Barbara I 
have you the slightest idea that you are the sweetest 
woman that God ever made ; the dearest, the most beau- 
tiful, the most incomparable, the — " 

" Now," she said, laughing, " you don't expect me to 
answer that question, do you ? But," she added more 
seriously, '' if you love me, and admire me, I am very 
glad. Don't you think we had better walk on ? We've 
been standing here almost long enough for father to 
overtake us." 

" No," he continued, looking at her rapturously, " you 
don't know what a perfectly adorable creature you are. 
If you did, you would go away from this grovelling 
earth, to dwell with your fellow angels." 

Again she laughed. She was very happy ; she threw 
her arms around his neck, and drew his head to her 
breast. It was her first caress. '' Oh, Jack !" she mur- 
mured, ^' my love, my love ! Don't talk such nonsense. 
Don't you think I'd rather be with you than with all the 
angels that were ever born ?" 

^'1 didn't know," said the imbecile young man — all 
young men that are worth anything are imbecile at such 
times — '^ I knew 1 wasn't fit to associate with you, and 
1 thought that perhaps you'd rather be with the superior 



**I LOVE YOU." 291 

beings that are like you. I suppose they are angels ; they 
may be goddesses for all I know. That was the first 
time you called me ' Jack ; ' I was waiting to see when 
you meant to begin." 

'' 1 expect to call you ^ Jack ' many times." 

'' I hope you may do it for a thousand years, and then 
for another thousand, and so on for all eternity." 

'' Oh, you'd be tired enough of me before that." 

Jack disdained any answer to this beyond a kiss. 

^ ' Now about that promise, or what you call a promise, ' ' 
he said, when he had the chance ; " made to a gentleman, 
too I Upon my word, Miss Henschel I Have you any 
clear idea of what you've been doing ?" He put on an 
air of mock severity as he asked this question. 

'^ No, Jack," answered Barbara, demurely, ^' 1 don't 
think I have. 1 have only one idea now ; there isn't 
room in my head for another — I know that you love me, 
and everything else in the way of knowledge has gone." 

^' That's all very well. That's the way I want to hear 
you talk ; but don't you think you could muster sufficient 
intellect to tell me who the gentleman is that you gave 
that ghost of a promise to V ' 

" I think I might do that much. I made no promise, 
expressed or implied, on that point." 

''Well, whowafiit?" 

" It was your uncle, Jack." 

" My Uncle Yictor !" 

" Yes, Jack." 

" You know him then ?" 

"Yes, Jack." 

" I am perfectly astounded I Have you known him 
long ?" 

''No, Jack." 



292 MB. OLDMIXON. 

'^ Have you met him often ?" 

"No, Jack, only twice." 

" How did you happen to make his acquaintance P' 

Barbara reflected for a moment before answering. 
They had resumed their walking, and they had yet 
about three-quarters of a mile to go before reaching 
home. She thought that what she had a right to tell 
her father she ought to be allowed to tell the man she 
was going to marry, especially as the matter concerned 
him. Yes, she would tell him. In reality, she had not 
actually promised. Scruples like hers disappear from a 
woman's mind in the presence of her lover. 

" I think I'll have to tell you aU about it, Jack," she 
said at last. " There's really no reason why you should 
not know, and if I don't tell you I shall be uncomfort- 
able, and you will be imhappy, won't you, dear ?" 

" Tes, very unhappy, my darling, very miserable. 
The very idea of your having a secret from me makes 
me wretched." (Jack did not look very wretched, but 
appearances are often deceptive.) "Besides," added 
the specious young man, "you didn't promise. If he 
had cared anything about it, don't you think he would 
have had you promise in words before he told you any- 
thing ? I think you ought to tell me, and then I've 
something in the way of a history to relate to you. 
How in the world did you make Uncle Victor's acquaint- 
ance ?" 

" I mounted a canary-bird for him ;" and then Barbara 
told all she knew of Mr. Oldmixon, and all that he had 
related to her of his loves, his nephews, and his inten- 
tions. 

Jack listened in astonishment. " So all this time," he 
exclaimed, " you have known of some of the most im- 




"I LOVE YOU." 293 

portant events in my life, and it is to you that I owe 
the reconciliation with my uncle !" 

'^ Yes, Jack, but you must bear in mind that at that 
time I had never even seen you. It was very venture- 
some in me to take your side when I knew nothing about 
you, don't you think so ?" looking archly at him as she 
spoke. 

'' 1 said you were an angel just now ; you are my 
guardian angel. I'm glad that I owe so much to you." 

'^ But, Jack dear, that is the very thing that I thought 
might come between us. 1 was afraid that when you 
came to know all, as you would some day, you might 
think — I am not afraid now — but I was little fearful 
that you might think I loved you because you were rich, 
and — and — that's what I thought." 

" You little goose ! As if I could ever think such a 
thing of an angel like you ! But if you have the slightest 
shadow of a fear on that account, you can get rid of it, 
for I am no longer my uncle's heir." 

" Not your uncle's heir !" 

'^ No, I have disinherited myself. It isn't often a 
fellow does that voluntarily," continued Jack, grandly, 
^^but I've done it." 

'' On purpose ?" 

" Yes, I've renounced all my prospects, or rather have 
declined them. You'll be happier, I hope, dear, without 
the money — that is, if I can do anything to make you 



so." 

'' Then you've given it all back to your brother ?" 

'' No ; some woman is to get it." 

^^ Some woman !" exclaimed Barbara, surprised in turn. 

'^ Yes, some woman — who, I have no idea, but I was 
expected to marry her. ' ' 



294 MB. OLDHIXOK. 

" Expected to marry her, and without ever having 
seen her !" 

" Yes, but of course I would not do it." Then Jack 
told how Mr. Oldmixon's will had made him only a con- 
tingent heir, how he had renounced the contingency, and 
how his uncle's estate would now go to the lady for 
whom he had been intended. 

'^ And you don't know who she is ?" 

^' 1 have not the slightest idea." 

^'And you gave up all that large fortune for me? 
Oh, Jack, how 1 do love you 1" 

" I'd renounce a hundred fortunes for you 1" ex- 
claimed Jack, magnificently. 

" Oh, how I do love you for that 1" repeated Barbara. 
^' How very odd that your uncle shoald want to force 
you to marry a woman you had never seen 1" 

' ' Odd ! I think it was horrible 1 He thought he 
could buy me with his money. I soon let him under- 
stand differently." 

" Was he very angry ?" 

'' No, he was not angry ; he was grieved, sincerely 
grieved. 1 think he has a lingering hope that I will still 
marry her. Tou know 1 have up to a year after his 
death. If I don't marry her by that time she gets the 
estate." 

'' The horrid creature ! Do you think she's a party to 
the arrangement ?" 

'^ I don't know. I shouldn't be surprised if she were. 
She's probably some woman he's been in love with, and 
who has rejected him." 

'^ He said something to me about dividing his prop- 
erty between you and another. Then he changed his 
ideas and determined to give it all to you. I'm glad it's 




"I LOVE YOU." 295 

out of the way, Jack. We cau do without it, can't 
we?" 

" Of course we can ; 1 can make all I want." 

They were now near the gate that opened upon the 
lawn that surrounded the house, and looking in that 
direction they saw that Mr. Henschel was already at 
home, having probably taken a shorter path that led 
over the fields. 

" Father will be glad to know that 1 am going to be 
your wife," said Barbara. '' He likes you. Jack." 

" Yes," said that young man, complacently, '^ 1 think 
he does." 

'' What do you mean, sir, by speaking in that self- 
sufficient manner and twisting your mustache in that 
idiotic way?" 

" I stole a march on you, Bab," he answered, laugh- 
ing. 

" Stole a march on me ! Ton don't mean to say 
that—" 

'' Yes, I do," he interrupted. " I spoke to him about 
you this morning before we went to church, and asked 
him to keep out of the way — " 

'' You arch hypocrite ! And what did he say ?" 

" You know what he did. As to what he said, the 
general purport of it was that he would be glad to get 
rid of you." 

^' So you are a party to this nefarious scheme," she 
said to her father, as they entered the gate, and he came 
down the path to join them. " X should have thought 
that a man of your age — Oh, father !" she contin- 
ued, as he clasped her in his arms and drew her to his 
heart, " I'm so happy ; I believe I loved him all the 
time." 



296 MB. OLDMIXOK. 

''And now you hnow you do, Bab." He held out 
one hand to Jack while with the other he gave him 
Barbara's hand. " Take her, my friend," he continued ; 
" she's the greatest treasure 1 have in the world, but I 
think she's safe in your hands." 



CHAPTEE XX. 

REVELATIONS. 

It is safe to say that no three people in the State of 
New York that sat down to dinner that day were hap- 
pier than our three friends. 

Mr. Henschel was especially exuberant. He had had 
a bottle of champagne put into ice, and, in his old-fash- 
ioned way, he drank the health of Jack and Barbara and 
wished them many long years of happiness. It being 
Sunday, dinner, as was usual in the country, was early in 
the afternoon, and when it was over Mr. Henschel very 
considerately announced his intention of going to his 
own room and taking a nap. This gave Jack the oppor- 
tunity he wanted to finish what he had to say to 
Barbara. 

" I am bound in honor to tell her," he said to him- 
self, " even if I knew she would break with me the 
next minute. I don't think she will, " he continued, as 
he looked at her admiringly, while he followed her into 
the library. " She's such a sweet-tempered, charitable 
darling, that she'll probably feel sorry for me and love 
me, if possible, more than ever." 

'' What a good man your father is, Bab 1" exclaimed 
Jack, as the old gentleman left the room. '^ I don't 
think I ever saw a finer specimen of nature's nobleman." 

"For going away and leaving us alone ?" inquired 

Barbara, laughing. "There isn't any hypocrisy about 
13* 



298 KB. OLDMIXOK. 

you, is there, dear ? But he's everything that's good, 
Jack — everything. I should be a bad girl if I did not 
recognize his goodness. Of course you know that he's 
only a Danish peasant, and I'm only a peasant's daugh- 
ter." 

" Oh," broke in Jack, ^' but such a peasant and such 
a daughter ! Now sit down here, please, for I've a long 
story to tell you — a sad story, a horrible story. Nothing, 
I trust, that will make you love me any the less, but 
one that wiU grieve you, as the facts have grieved 
me." 

He made room for her on the sofa, as she took the 
vacant place by his side. 

'^ 1 am not afraid," she said, seriously, for she saw 
that something of moment was coming, and her thoughts 
turned on old Mr. Oldmixon, to whom she naturally 
thought that what Jack had to say related. " Perhaps 1 
can anticipate a part of what you are about to say — ^your 
uncle is not well ?" 

'^ No, he is not well ; but he is not, as you may think, 
insane — at least, he is not a raving maniac. I doubt very 
mnch if he has been altogether sane since he was bom, 
but his insanity is not of the kind that overthrows the 
reason, though it probably makes him do things that 
otherwise he would not do. It would be, 1 think, a very 
difficult undertaking to attempt to prove in a court of 
justice that Uncle Victor is insane. There are hundreds 
of his friends here who would come forward to swear 
that they had never known a man with a more acute 
mind, or one more capable of comprehension on a large 
scale. However, dear, what I have now to say is not in 
regard to his mind." 

He put his arm around her waist and drew her toward 



BEVEL ACTIONS. 299 

him, so that her head rested on his shoulder, and then 
he began. 

He told her of himself when a boy ; of his nncle's 
treatment of him and preference for Hogarth ; of his 
own early struggles and success ; of his brother's mar- 
riage ; his uncle's reconciliation ; Mrsi Hogarth Old- 
mixon's death ; his uncle's vision, or whatever else it 
was, at Saratoga ; of his belief that his nephew was a 
murderer, and of his determination to bring him to justice. 
AU this the reader already knows, and it is not necessary, 
therefore, to allude to it at greater length. 

Barbara listened with the most rapt attention to 
every word, frequently interrupting hun to ask pertment 
questions, or to express her sympathy with Jack, as he 
disapproved of his uncle's course. When he had got 
through with the account of the conversation with his 
uncle at the Lucullus Club, during which Mr. Oldmixon 
had detailed the incidents of his vision, and declared his 
intention of going to Annapolis and of bringing Hogarth 
back into relations with him, Barbara's astonishment was 
at its height. She was not in the least degree supersti* 
tious. She did not believe in omens, or presages, or 
visions, or ghosts, or in lucky or unlucky days, but she 
was awed by Jack's account of his uncle's real or fancied 
experience on the lawn at Saratoga, and horrified beyond 
measure at the violence that the old man had exhibited 
toward his nephew. 

" How prejudiced he is 1" she said, raising her head 
from Jack's shoulder, for perhaps the twentieth time, 
to look into his face. " He is so different from you ; 
you take after your mother, don't you. Jack ?" 

"Yes, 1 think 1 do." 

*^ I'm glad of that ; there's something very singular 



300 MB. OLDMIXON. , 

about your uncle. I thongbt bo when I first met him, 
and this impression was strengthened by our second 
interview, and now it is still stronger. How horrible 
that an nncle should be trying to fasten the crime of 
murder on his own nephew, and to say that he would 
like to see him 'hanged 1 And aU because of his prej- 
udice. I don't believe in his vision. 1 am sure he 
made it all up just to have some excuse for persecuting 
your brother, who, if wild, and not as good as he should 
be, is certainly not the wretch your uncle would make 
him out to be." 

Jack was silent for a few minutes. He was a 
thoroughly generous and magnanimous young man. It | 
was very painful to him to be obliged to say anything ] 
that reflected on his own brother, even though it were 
said to the woman who was now as near to him as was 
his own heart — ^the one that he had taken into his life as 
a part of himself, and with whom he hoped to live in 
happiness all the rest of his days. But he conceived 
that it was his duty to place her in possession of all 
facts that bore upon the character of the family into 
which he hoped, erelong, to introduce her. That family, 
he believed, was tainted with a tendency to insanity, 
and perhaps disgraced by an atrocious crime committed 
by one of its members. It might be that she, actuated 
by prudential motives, would prefer not to marry a man 
vdth such a family history as he had. He did not 
believe that she would take any such course with him, 
but it was possible she might, and, at any rate, the choice 
ought to be given her. She would love him all the 
more, perhaps, for his confidence in her reasoning 
faculties, even if she should repel with indignation the 
idea of separating from him. 



REVELATIONS. 301 

" My darling," he said, as he drew her still closer to 
him, ^'you are so good yourself that it is impossible 
for you to suspect the existence of evil in others. It 
may be that a great crime has been committed. You 
shall hear what further I have to tell you, and then you 
will be able to judge for yourself. 

" We went to Annapolis, as my uncle had arranged, 
and we stopped at the same hotel at which Hogarth and 
his wife had stopped. It was late when we arrived, so 
we did nothing that night toward the investigation of 
the matter of my uncle's vision ; but the next morning 
Uncle Victor went into the office, and 1 with him, and 
we had a long conversation with the clerk. Of course 
nothing was said relative to my uncle's suspicions. He 
told who he was — and the clerk had suspected that we 
were relatives as soon as he had read our names in the 
register — and of course it was natural that we should 
evince an interest in all the circumstances connected with 
the awful tragedy that a few days before had occurred 
at the hotel. 

" We found at once that the sympathies of the clerk 
were strongly with Hogarth. Nothing, so far as we could 
learn, could have been more decorous than my brother's 
conduct on the occasion, and no one had ever shown more 
poignant grief." 

" Oh, Jack, could he possibly have been guilty ?" 
exclaimed Barbara. '' I cannot believe it I It is too 
horrible a thought for me to conceive. It would have 
been such a monstrous and so utterly inhuman a crime 
that I cannot think it possible." 

Jack said nothing in answer to this outburst of emo- 
tion, but as he went on his voice trembled and became 
more husky. 



802 MB. OLDMIXON. 

^' ^ Did Mrs. Oldmixon,' asked my nncle, * have no 
premonitory symptoms of disease ? Was she well all 
through that day up to the time of her death ? ' 

^' ' They arrived here the night before,' answered 
the clerk, ' and ate a hearty supper. Mrs. Oldmixon 
expressed a desire to take a walk, and though it was 
after nine o'clock, her husband at once got ready to go 
with her. He was devoted to her. But then,' he add^, 
with a smile, ^ they had been just married. They 
were only gone a few minutes ; they had walked up to 
the church and then around the circle, and had come 
straight back to the hotel. It was all she saw of An- 
napolis, for the next day it rained in torrents.' " 

As Jack uttered these words Barbara gave a start and 
turned pale. ' ' Oh, Jack, ' ' she exclaimed, as she jumped 
up from the sofa in her excitement, '' that is exactly as 
your uncle saw it in his vision." 

''Yes, dear ; sit down and hear the rest." 

'^ No, I cannot sit down ; 1 am too much excited. I 
must walk. G-o on, please." 

'' As the clerk spoke these words, my uncle gave 
me a significant look, as much as to say, ' This is the 
first point.' 

'^ ' May we see the rooms that my poor niece occu- 
pied ? ' inquired my uncle ; ' we would like to spend 
a few minutes alone in them. It would be a melancholy 
pleasure for us to see the place where she met such an 
untimely death I ' 

" The clerk called a servant. ' Show these gentlemen 
to No. 22,' he said." 

*'"WTiat!" said Barbara, ''the same number that 
your uncle mentioned 1 Oh," she continued, covering 
her face with her hands, '' 1 know what is coming. It 



BEVELATIONS. 803 

was true, everything was just as your uncle saw it 1 My 
poor Jack !" throwing her arms around his neck and 
bursting into tears as she lay on his breast. '' 1 cannot 
tell you how much I feel for you, but you will know. 
And that poor woman 1 Oh, did he really kill her ?" 

Jack was too much overcome to answer. His voice 
was choked and the tears were streaming down his 
cheeks. The two '' ninnies," some people may call 
them — ^but very human for all that ; and is not the world 
mainly made up of ^^ ninnies," in all their varieties ? — 
stood for some time clasped in each other's arms. Jack 
did his best to soothe Barbara, and she was equally 
assiduous in calming him. The shock was over. She 
was in a great measure prepared for what was to come, 
and she had not faltered in her love, and, what was 
more, very evidently did not intend to falter. After 
a little while both became suflSciently composed to admit 
of the one telling the remainder of his story and of the 
other listening. 

" We were shown up to the rooms, and, dismissing the 
servant, we entered. A glance was suflScient to show 
us, as we stood with the plans in our hands that Uncle 
Victor had drawn, that the rooms and the articles of 
furniture and the arrangements were exactly as we had 
them before us. There was the window at which 
Hogarth had stood, there the table in the centre of the 
room, there the chair in which his wife had been rock- 
ing herseK, there every other article of furniture in the 
sitting-room, in the identical positions in which we had 
them on our diagrams. 

^' ' It is the same,' said my uncle in a low but emphatic 
voice. ' Everything is, as you see, precisely as we have 
it here ; and there,' he continued, as he pointed toward 



304 MR. OLDMIJCOK. 

it, ' is the door through which he carried his poor wife 
to her death. Come, Jack,' he went on, * follow me 
into the next room ; there you will see the bed upon 
which he laid her, and the pillow with which he 
smothered the life out of her. ' 

*'l went with him," resumed Jack, after there had 
been a little more comforting on both sides, " and there, 
sure enough, was everything exactly as we had it on our 
plans. Of course I was both astounded and horrified 
by the revelations of facts that were brought so vividly 
and truthfully before me. I did not know what to 
think. I had no precedent to which the experience 
through which I was then passing could be compared. 
I could only drop into a chair and cover my face with 
my hands so as to shut out the fearful images around 
me. 

'' But I could not dissipate the thoughts that were 
passing through my mind, or banish the picture of the 
awful deed as it had been described by Uncle Victor. 
Over and over again the scene was enacted before my 
mental eyes. 1 saw Hogarth standing at the window ; 
then turn and seize his wife, his face distorted by the 
most frightful passion ; then hurry with her to the next 
room, while she struggled to free herself from the grasp 
that she probably knew, from the look in his eyes, was 
meant to end in her death ; then his throwing her on the 
bed and suffocating her with the pillow, without giving 
her the mercy of even a single breath. I trust I may 
never again have such images in my mind. They stuck 
to me for several days and nights, until 1 thought I 
should go wild. Indeed, my darling, it was the sight 
of your dear face yesterday in the car that finally sent 
them away, I hope, forever." 



REVELATIONS. 305 

Barbara made the customary response to this state- 
ment, and, after a short delay, not improper under the 
circumstances, Jack again took up the thread of his 
discourse. 

" My uncle acted with the utmost coolness and delib- 
eration ; only once did he break down, and that was 
when he saw the bed upon which he firmly believed a 
murderous deed had been done. Then he fell on his 
knees before the bed and remained for several minutes 
with his head bowed upon it. Rising suddenly to his 
feet, he swore the most solemn oath, that there should 
be a life for a life, even if he himself had to be the 
avenger." 

*'l can scarcely reah'ze it all," said Barbara. "It 
seems too horrible for belief, that your brother would 
commit so awful a crime. And I cannot and will not 
believe it. Is there no escape from the conclusion which 
at first sight appears to be the only one to be drawn ?" 

" Now, let'us try and get the matter before us in a logi- 
cal way," said Jack, putting on an impressive manner. 
"My uncle describes to me rooms and furniture and 
arrangements, the ideas of which, he tells me, were given 
to him in a mysterious manner as he sat on the lawn at 
Saratoga. It would be too great a tax upon our faith in 
chance to say that the points of his vision and the 
actual facts as we found them at Annapolis agree merely 
through the accidental coincidence of a dream with 
reality. The items of agreement are too many for that 
alternative. So that, if we admit that my uncle told the 
truth as regards his vision or dream, or whatever else you 
choose to call it, we are bound to admit further that there 
is a strong probability of the truth of those parts that 
have not yet been confirmed." 



306 MS. OLDidxoiir. 

" Yes, it would seem bo." 

^^ It is therefore, after all, a question of probabilitieB, 
and only of probabilities, even if we accept my unde's 
assertions in their entirety. Nevertheless, the probabil- 
ities are so strong as to amount almost to a demonstra- 
tion." 

'^I'm afraid that is so. Jack," replied Barbara, 
musingly. 

^^ But now," continued Jack, becoming still more 
emphatic, ^^ suppose that there is not a word of truth to 
my uncle's story, what then ?" 

" Jack I" 

'^ Yes, I say, suppose there is no truth whatever in the 
account he gave me, what then ? It was possible for 
him to have heard while he was at Saratoga of the death 
of Hogarth's wife ; to have gone to Annapolis, to have 
ascertained all about the matter — ^the rooms, the artidcB 
of furniture and their positions on the floors — ^to have 
taken the clerk into his confidence, and then to have 
come back to New York and to have concocted this 
story of a vision or of some other supernatural perform- 
ance. I am sorry to say, from what I know of him, 
that I think he is entirely capable of doing all that for 
the purpose of avenging himself on Hogarth, who, he 
imagines, has terribly injured him." 

"Is it possible, Jack, that he would commit so dis- 
honorable an act ?" 

" I think it quite possible ; though, at the same time, 
I am bound to say that 1 don't think he did. It is easier, 
however, for me to believe that such was his conduct 
than to believe in the story of the supernatural that he 
has related. It is only giving Hogarth the benefit of 
the doubt in a reasonable and just way ; and until I know 



REVELATIONS. 307 

that Uncle Victor did not leave Saratoga, and that he 
had no communication with Annapolis, I shall hold my 
belief in abeyance." 

^' That is right ; we will not believe your brother to 
be a murderer till we have something more than your 
uncle's word for it — till, in fact, we have investigated 
him. Is that what you mean, Jack ?" 

" Something like that. 1 shall run up to Saratoga to- 
morrow and find out all 1 can in regard to his move- 
ments while he was there, and especially as to whether 
or not he left Saratoga at any time. If, as he says, he 
called out for help, the women that came to him will, of 
course, recollect the fact. Now, dear, I have only a little 
more to tell. We came back from Annapolis over- 
whelmed with the weight of the information we had 
obtained, but Uncle Victor was very quiet. He seemed 
to be lost in thought over what had occurred and in 
endeavoring to determine upon his future course. On 
our arrival in New York, he drove at once to his 
residence, making no allusions when we parted to what 
I knew was filling his mind, but merely requesting me 
to call and see him in the morning at as early an hour as 
possible. I went, and then he told me that he had writ- 
ten to Hogarth requesting him to let bygones be bygones, 
and to come and live in his house. ^ You see. Jack,' he 
said, * I know that he killed my poor Camilla, but my 
knowledge is not the knowledge for ^a jury. I'm going 
to wring the confession out of him, and to do that 1 am 
obliged to dissemble. Eemember,' he went on, ^ that, as 
I told you before, he's a basilisk, and the only animal that 
can destroy a basilisk is a weasel, and I'm the weasel 
in this case. The weasel, in the days when there were 
basilisks, made use of its cunning as its principal offen- 




308 MB. OLDMIXON. 

sive weapon, just as it does now when it attacks chickeii- 
coops. I have to do the same thing. If I did not, the 
scoundrel would escape me, and that he never shalL' 

" It was in vain that 1 remonstrated ; I left him more 
angry with me than he had been since our reconciliation, 
for I told him that 1 would not enter his house while 
Hogarth was there. I acted thus not only because my 
uncle was playing the part of a traitor, but for the reason 
also that I did not care to resume friendly relations with 
Hogarth after he had for so many years treated me with 
neglect and contumely." 

'^ You were right. Jack dear," said Barbara, "both 
your reasons are good ones." 

" Thanks 1 1 am glad you think so. As matters now 
stand, Hogarth is apparently reinstated in his uncle's 
regards, and I am again discarded. I saw on the table 
the draft of what looked like a new will. He will 
execute this, show it to Hogarth, and thus, as he said, 
make him believe that he is the heir. 

" That is all, my darling," continued Jack. " I 
thought it right that you should know that the family of 
the man that you have promised to marry is a tainted 
one, that the man's brother is suspected of having mur- 
dered his wife, and that he may end his days on a gal- 
lows. You may, therefore, if you marry me, live to see 
the day on which your brother-in-law will be hanged by 
the neck till he is dead. It is not a pleasant prospect," 
he went on bitterly, " and I should not blame you if, 
now that you know the truth, yoa should decline the 
honor of an alliance with a family with such a blurred 
escutcheon as ours." 

Of course this was all talk on Jack's part. He knew 
very well that Barbara was not the kind of a woman to 



EEVELATI0N8. 309 

give Tip her lover for another's sins or crimes, but he 
wanted to receive the assurance of her devotion and 
constancy, and it is needless to say that he got them. 

The next morning he escorted Barbara into town, and 
always afterward met her at the station and went with 
her to Mr. Maurice's studio, calling for her again in the 
afternoon and seeing her safely on the train. In this 
way he managed to meet her twice every day, to his and 
her unmitigated delight. On Saturdays he went to 
Lasata with her, passing Sundays in her company, and 
eveiy day loving her, if possible, more devotedly than 
he had the previous day. It was determined that their 
marriage should take place early in the following March, 
and that the newly married couple should, as Mr. Hen- 
schel insisted, make the old manor-house their home. 
There was therefore going to be ample work for Barbara 
and her father in fitting up the additional rooms that 
would be required. 



CHAPTEE XXI. 

'^BY heaven! that tofohed him." 

Mk. Oldmixon sat in a revolving chair in front of a 
table loaded with books and papers. The room was his 
library, for Mr. Oldmixon was a man of literary and 
scientific tastes, which it was a pleasure to him to gratify, 
and which accordingly he did gratify to the extent of hifl 
power. He had always been a self-indulgent man, but as 
his tendencies had never been toward dissipation or im- 
morality, the results of yielding to them had been favor- 
able both to his mind and his body. At one time he had 
had serious thoughts of turning his attention to authorship, 
and many years before he is introduced to the reader had 
written several short stories and one novel. The former 
had, after some trouble in finding a medium for bringing 
them before the public, been accepted by a magazine 
which, a short time after publishing them, had gone the 
way of many of its predecessors, and been heard of no 
more. The channel for his lucubrations was therefore 
closed, and this fact had acted in so dispiriting a manner on 
Mr. Oldmixon, that he gave up authorship and turned his 
attention to reading and to the cultivation of gastronomic 
science. In order to indulge himself to the full in the 
new directions in which he had looked, he required 
two things — a library and a kitchen — and he had at once, 
with such knowledge of the necessities of the occasion as 
he possessed, and without advice from any one, set out to 



*^^BY heaven! that touched him." 311 

supply himself. Relative to the library he knew tolerably 
well what he wanted. The first thing, of course, was a 
room ; and not having a suitable one in his house, he had 
built an addition, which, when he had finished it and 
stocked it with books to the number of over ten thousand, 
he declared was the most complete private library for a 
non-professional gentleman, such as was he, to be found 
anywhere within the limits of the United States. " It's 
not so big as some I've seen," he said one day to a dis- 
tinguished gentleman to whom he was exhibiting his ac- 
cumulations, " but it contains some of the rarest literary 
treasures to be found on the earth. I never bay any edi- 
tion of an old book but the first. I have seventy Elzevirs, 
taller than any others to be found, and one hundred and 
twenty-three vellum Aldine editiones prmoipea. You 
see, I've been all over the world ; I knew just where to 
go to get my treasures. Do you see this Aldus ?" 

" What ?" asked the distinguished gentleman, who had 
been the governor of one of the States, and was then a 
Cabinet Minister. 

"This Aldus." 

"I should call it a book," observed the distinguished 
gentleman, taking it into his hands and turning it over 
and over. 

" Of course it's a book," said Mr. Oldmixon, in a tone 
of disgust, " but it happens to be a copy of the first edi- 
tion of Martial, printed by Aldus in the year 1501. As 
you see, it's printed on vellum. It is one of five known 
to exist, and it cost me just three hundred and fifty 
dollars." 

The distinguished gentleman threw up his hands in as- 
tonishment. " Three hundred and fifty dollars for that 
little book 1 What a waste of money 1" 



312 MB. OLDHIXOIf. 

*'Not at all, sir," replied Mr. Oldmixon, a little irri- 
tated by the disparaging speech of his friend ; " books 
like this double in value every ten years. 1 expect to live 
twenty years yet, so that when I die and my library 
comes to be sold by my unappreciative heir, this litlile 
book will sell for exactly three thousand dollars. Not a 
bad investment, is it, even from your point of view ? You 
wouldn't be likely to make as much out of a farm in 
Minnesota, would you ? You've heard of -^sop, I sup- 
pose?" he continued, in a rather contemptuous tone. 

" Oh, yes, the man that wrote the fables.' ' 

" The same. Well, here's a copy of the first printed 
Latin edition of his book. Look at it — ^look at it 1 Did 
you ever see anything more beautiful in all your life? 
What paper, what ink, what a register ! Now, look at 
the colophon, and you wiU see that it was printed at 
Milan, in the year 14:74 — three hundred and two years be- 
fore the Declaration of Independence, and more than four 
hundred years from this day." 

"I can't read a word of it," said the distinguished 
gentleman, turning over the leaves, and laughing heartily. 

** Of course you can't. There are two impediments 
to your doing so. In the first place, it's printed in Lat- 
in ; and in the second place, it's printed in Gothic black 
letter. " 

'' Very fine, I've no doubt, but I can buy a better copy 
for a quarter." 

^' If you wanted to read it, yes. But that copy cost 
eight hundred francs seven years ago. It's worth about 
fourteen hundred now — say two hundred and eighty 
dollars. But I see you don't appreciate these things. 
Here's a copy of Smith's ^Life of Andrew Jackson.' 
Observe the beautiful chromo-lithographs of the old 



" BY HEAVEK ! THAT TOITOHED HIM." 313 

hero," he went on, with an ironical expression in his 
voice that the distinguished gentleman, had he been ob- 
servant, would have quickly detected. '' See with what 
consummate skill the artist — printer I should have said 
— has colored the hair and cheeks and uniform of the 
gallant general 1 Is it not a beautiful production ?" 

^* Splendid 1 I must have a copy of that. General 
Jackson has no more devoted admirer than myself." 

^' Take that copy, I beg of you. Smith presented it 
to me, but I shall feel highly honored by your accept- 
ance of it, and," he added to himself, '' I shaU be devil- 
ish glad to get the vile book out of my library." 

With his novel, however, Mr. Oldmixon had not been 
so successful as with his library. In fact, beyond the 
accomplishment of the work of writing it, he had not 
been successful at all. He had submitted it to a few lit- 
erary friends, and they had unanimously decided against 
publication — one going so far as to say that he had 
never read a worse novel, unless it was '' The Dwellers 
in Five Sisters' Court," that one Mudder had written. 
In such matters friends are very much like a council 
of war. The latter always advise against fighting, and 
the former always advise against publishing. 

Then he had taken it first to one publishing house, 
and then to another, and each one had some reason for 
not desiring to bring it before the public, that the author 
was sure was eagerly waiting to snap it up, edition after 
edition. One thought it "too realistic" and another 
*' not sufficiently realistic for this matter-of-fact world,'' 
while others simply sent it back with thanks, but regret- 
ting that their " readers" had advised against publication. 
One house had offered the use of their imprint, if he 

would pay all the expenses of publication, and give fifty 
14 



314 MS. OLBICIXOK. 

per cent of the retail price for their trouble in placmg 
it in the market ; bnt this proposition Mr.Oldmixon had 
indignantly declined, saying that he was an author, not 
a publisher. 

Then, declaring that the pirates — ^meaning thereby pub- 
lishers — had entered into a combination to keep his 
novel from appearing before the world, he took his man- 
uscript and locked it up, asserting that he would not 
look at it again for twenty years, and that then he should 
publish it without doubt, as all the houses that now re-. 
fused it would be ready to tear each other's eyes out for 
the honor of having their firm-names associated with 
his. 

But with his kitchen he was at first the recipient of 
more disappointment and misfortune than generally ftll 
to the lot of a person that enters upon culinary opera- 
tions. If he had known nothing about the theory of the 
subject, and had had the palate of a clodhopper, he 
would undoubtedly have gotten along very well ; but 
with the knowledge he had gained by reading, and by 
eating many good dinners in various parts of the world, 
and, above all, by the high state of development into 
which he had brought his gustatory nerves, his experience 
in the kitchen was at first anything but satisfactory. 
The man that does not know what good cooking is can 
always cook to suit himself. Mr. Oldmixon did know 
what it was, and hence his deficiency in technical knowl- 
edge was the cause to him of much vexation of spirit 

Nevertheless, he persevered, and at last hired a chefoi 
the highest celebrity to give him lessons in the cuhnary 
art. The first step taken by this eminent possessor oi 
the cordon hleu was to demand that a kitchen be built as 
an addition to the house, insisting that the basement 



" BY HEAVEN 1 THAT TOUCHED HIM." 315 

hitherto used was altogether unfitted, by lack of air and 
light, for the occupancy of a true artist, such as he con- 
sidered himself to be. Moreover, the library, a far less 
important affair than a kitchen, had had a building es- 
pecially erected for it, and the department over which he 
was to preside should be equally favored. So, at an ex- 
pense of several thousand dollars, an addition was built 
and was fitted up in accordance with the wishes of the 
gentleman who had condescended to act in the capacity 
of teacher to Mr, Oldmixon. 

And a perfect affair of its kind it was, with its Paris- 
ian range, its bright copper saucepans, its marble mortar, 
and all the other utensils devised by ingenious inventors 
and needed for the various complicated processes neces- 
sary in the preparation of the delectable compounds that 
an advanced civilization has discovered. Here for three 
hours every day Mr. Oldmixon took lessons, until at the 
end of the year he had become as fully an accomplished 
culinary artist as the chef^ his instructor. It was here, 
after he had acquired all that this eminent individual 
could teach him, that he had performed the experiments 
in gastronomic science that had given him such a high 
position with gourmands throughout the civilized world. 
It is scarcely necessary to add that it was here that he 
had developed the capabilities of the frog's liver, and had 
established the fact that at least a dozen wonderful 
dishes coidd be compounded with it for their basis. 

As stated in the beginning of this chapter, Mr. Old- 
mixon was seated in his Ubrary in front of a table cov- 
ered with books and papers. He was deeply engaged 
in perusing a voluminous manuscript that lay before 
him, and from time to time making corrections in its 
text. These latter appeared to be of a very extensive 



ffi 



.316 MB. OLBMIXON. 

character, for not only did lie erase and interline on 
almost every page, but not infrequently lie ent out with 
a big pair of scissors large slips from the pages, and 
occasionally destroyed several pages in one lot, substitut- 
ing new matter for that that he threw into the waste- 
paper basket. The twenty years had expired, and this 
was the novel that he had that long time ago laid aside, 
and which he was now revising, with the intention of 
again offering it to a publisher. 

But he had very materially modified the determina- 
tion which twenty years ago he had expressed. Then 
he had asserted that he would offer his book for publica- 
tion on the termination of the period mentioned with- 
out the changing of a sentence, a word, or even a punc- 
tuation-mark, and that the fraternity that supplies the 
world with literary pabulum would eagerly strive for 
the honor of spreading his production over the land. 
He had, as I say, changed his intention, for now he was 
making alterations so extensive that it looked very much 
as though he were reconstructing the manuscript from 
the beginning to the end. 

He had been engaged in this work since nine o'clock, 
and it was now nearly one. He looked at the table 
clock before him, and then, apparently surprised at the 
rapid flight of time, gathered his papers together, and 
putting them into a drawer, locked it and hid the key on 
one of the library shelves behind the books, or rather 
behind a particular book, the title of which he had in 
his pocket. He was obliged to resort to this mnemonic 
device, for his memory, as he advanced in years, was 
becoming treacherous. It now wanted five minutes of 
one. Mr. Oldmixon took up a volume from the table 
and began its perusal, seating himself in an arm-chair 



*'by heaven! that touched him." 317 

big enough to hold two like him, and throwing his head 
back till it was supported on the luxuriously cushioned 
surface behind, at that angle that was most conducive 
to the comfort of its possessor. Every now and then 
he glanced at the clock, as though counting the minutes 
that would elapse before some expected event. At last 
the hands on the dial indicated one o'clock, and almost 
at the very moment there was a knock on the door. Mr. 
Oldmixon said " Come in," at the same time redoub- 
ling his attention to the book he held in his hand, so that 
the visitor had taken several steps into the room before 
the old gentleman suddenly became aware of his presence, 
and throwingthe volume on the table, held out his hand. 

^' Punctual to the minute, my dear boy ; that's what 
I like to see. Your married life, short as it was, seems 
to have improved you. Ah, my dear Hogarth, if she 
had only lived, what a splendid fellow she'd have made 
of you in time !" 

^^ Yes, Uncle Victor," answered Hogarth, in tones the 
lugubriousness of which would have moved an anchorite 
to tears, and which really appeared to have that effect 
on Mr. Oldmixon, as he hastily took out his handker- 
chief and applied it to his eyes — " yes, uncle, she is a 
great loss to me. Although 1 think 1 appreciated her 
while she lived, I never knew all that she was worth to 
me till she was dead. I think if you had not again 
taken me into your favor I should have terminated my 
own existence." 

" Ah ! Well, well, death has to come in some form or 
other to all of us, and those whom the gods love die 
young. But don't talk of suicide ! You make me 
tremble, lest, in some one of your despairing moments, 
you should be tempted to put an end to your existence." 



-u. . '^ " '"^ 






318 MR. OLDMIXOir. 

Mr. Oldmixon was sitting in front of the mantel mir- 
ror, as was also Hogarth. By looking into the glass, the 
old gentleman coald see the reflection of his nephew's 
face without appearing to be regarding it. In fact, 
he had arranged the chaira with direct reference to this 
matter ; and as he intended that every day at one oVlock 
his nephew shonld pay him a visit, he expected to he 
able to study at his leisure, and with the advantage of 
not being suspected, a face that he had resolved should 
be made to respond to the mental tortures he should 
inflict. 

"I sometimes feel tired of life," said Hogarth, 
moodily ; '' I had looked forward to many happy years of 
existence with the woman I loved, and then to have — " 
Yes, it is very hard," interrupted Mr. Oldmixon. 

I wonder if she suffered much in dying ?" he contin- 
ued, looking into the mirror as he spoke ; '^ it is said that 
in some of these heart and lung diseases the agony is 
very acute. Now," he thought, "if the scoundrel has 
any feeling at all 1 shall perceive it." 

But Hogarth remained quite unmoved under this 
attack. " I do not think she could have had any pain 
at all," he answered, coolly; "she probably died in 
her sleep." 

" I have just been reading here," continued Mr. Old- 
mixon, still looking in the glass at Hogarth, " that con- 
gestion of the lungs produces a sensation of suffocation, 
and from the little 1 know of that process it is painf uL 
I was once nearly suffocated." " By Heaven !" he con- 
tinued to himself, "that touched him." And it had 
touched him, for at the reference to suffocation Ho- 
garth's face had become several shades paler, and he had 
moved uneasily on his chair. 



"by heaven 1 THAT TOUCHED HIM." 319 

" I did — did — ^not know that yon had ever been nearly 
snf — snf — " he stammered. 

" Suffocated I" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon. " It is a 
rather difficult word to pronounce, but 1 never knew 
you to stammer before. Ton are weak and nervous, my 
boy. Say ^ smothered ' instead ; it is a good deal easier, 
and more appropriate. Yes, I was once nearly smoth- 
ered." 

Again Hogarth was moved. He glanced furtively 
at his nncle, and the comers of his month twitched a 
little, as thongh he were endeavoring to control himself. 

He did not care to talk abont the subject that Mr. 
Oldmixon had introduced, and yet he felt that if he did 
not ask for further information he would run the risk 
of exciting surprise in the mind of his uncle, and that 
this feeling might easily lead to the development of 
some other emotion — suspicion, perhaps. Still he re- 
mained silent so long that Mr. Oldmixon turned toward 
him, and repeated the assertion. 

"Yes," he said, "I was once nearly smothered. 
Don't you care to hear about it ?" 

" Certainly," answered Hogarth, with an attempt at 
a laugh, ^^ although such things are not pleasant subjects 
of conversation. How was it ?" 

" I was a young man at the time, not quite your 
present age, and was walking through a trench that had 
been dug for the purpose of receiving pipes for a water- 
supply. The sides were about eight feet high, and 
were not supported by boards, as they ought to have 
been. Suddenly one side caved in just opposite to 
where 1 was standing, and I was completely covered by 
the falling earth. I at once felt the most severe pain 
in my head, and at the same time a sensation of burning 



820 MB. OLDMIXOIf. 

in my chest, as though there was a fiery furnace there. 
But these physical suflEerings were nothing to what I 
experienced mentally. I had the idea that some one 
was sitting on my chest, and thereby preventing the 
access of air I I thoaght I struggled with this mur- 
derer with all the strength I had, but I could not shake 
him oflE. There he continued to sit, grinning with 
diabolical malice at my feeble attempts to get rid of 
him — attempts that I felt were every moment becom- 
ing more and more futile. Then I lost consciousness, 
and when 1 came to myself I was lying on the bed in 
my own house. Some men had seen the caving in of 
the earth, and had come to my assistance. I was buried 
nearly five minutes. The doctor said that a minute 
longer would have been fatal, as there was no instance 
on record of a suffocated person living five minutes." 

Mr. Oldmixon spoke all this in an indifferent sort of 
a tone, as though he were telling some commonplace 
incident ; but he nevertheless did not fail to keep his 
eyes on Hogarth through the medium of the mirror. 
To his great disappointment, his nephew exhibited no 
emotion whatever beyond a sort of languid interest, 
perfectly explainable by the fact that the sufferer was 
his uncle. He had recovered his composure. His mind 
was now on the alert, and he did not mean to allow his 
emotions to run away with him if he could help it. He 
knew that this was his weak point, and that he had noth- 
ing to fear except from himself ; and he was aware of the 
fact that if he wanted to prevent his exposure, he must 
learn to restrain the manifestation of his feelings when 
suffocation and smothering were the subjects of conver- 
sation. He was sensible that he had, when his uncle be- 
gan to talk, allowed his face to express the fear he felt ; 



" BY HEAVEN ! THAT TOUCHED HIM." 321 

but he did not believe that this had been noticed. The 
more he reflected upon the matter, the more he was con- 
vinced that his uncle could not possibly have any pur- 
pose in view not apparent in his words. Why should 
he have ? What information could he possess relative 
to the crime that had been committed ? All the knowl- 
edge of the act was locked up in his own heart, and 
there he intended to keep it. He was safe — absolutely 
safe, he thought, and he would show the world that he 
could talk of smothering with as composed an air as the 
judge on the bench or as the physician making a post- 
mortem examination. 

^'I am surprised," he said, with perfect coolness, 
*Hhat you should have felt any pain. 1 have always 
been under the impression that that mode of death wad 
rather pleasant than otherwise." Then, moved by a 
spirit of bravado that he could not resist, he added, 
with a little laugh, ^' If I were going to kill a man I 
think I should suffocate him. " 

" Or a woman ?" inquired Mr. Oldmixon, with entire 
nonehalance. ^' Would you kill a woman in the same 
way ?" 

*^ Oh, yes, I suppose so," answered Hogarth, rising 
from his chair this time, for this blow was a little more 
than he had expected, and he felt that he must hide his 
face. '* What would be pleasant for a man would be 
equally so for a woman. I hardly think that there is 
any difference in the power to feel in the two sexes." 

" Probably not," said Mr. Oldmixon, dryly ; '' and I 
see, from a work on medical jurisprudence that I have 
here, that the post-mortem evidences of death from 
fimothering — that was the word, I think, we agreed to use 
— are very uncertain, and that no positive opinion on the 

14* 



322 MB. OLDHIXOK. 

subject could be given by the most accomplished phy- 
sician, unless he had some knowledge of the attendant 
circumstances. Therefore, my dear Hogarth, it would 
appear that you would choose well ; for unless you had 
quarrelled with the lady or had done something else to 
excite suspicion against you, you would be absolutely 
safe." 

Hogarth stood at the window, with his back to Mr. 
Oldmixon, while the latter was delivering these remarks, 
so that his face was invisible ; but his uncle knew that 
this shot told, for he could see his whole frame tremble, 
his head fall toward his chest, and liis fingers clutch spas- 
medically at the palms of his hands. 

Hogarth was in reality completely stunned by this 
onslaught. He could not speak. He began to think 
that his uncle must have some knowledge of his crime, 
and already the idea suggested itseK to him that if 
smothering were so safe an act for the criminal, why 
not try it on this man, who, purposely or ignorantly, 
was torturing his soul ? It was a question to be deeply 
pondered. Certainly, however, this was not the time 
to make the attempt, when it was known to several 
persons that he was in his uncle's library. There was a 
time for all things, and doubtless there would be an op- 
portunity for the deed he contemplated when it could 
be perpetrated without suspicion attaching to him. 

As for Mr. Oldmixon, he sat and watched his nephew 
as he stood with his back to him. He saw the involuntary 
contraction of the fingers, produced by the emotion and 
the thought that at the moment swayed him. " The 
scoundrel is contemplating smothering me," he said to 
himself. '' That is just the way his fingers twitched '' 
before he killed his wife." 



\ 



CHAPTER ZXIL 

THE TORTUBE IS CONTINUED. 

Mb. Oldmixon's house was a largo one, and there was, 
therefore, ample room in it for Hogarth. His uncle had 
given hira the whole of the third floor, consisting of 
four large rooms, with their appurtenances. 

No one could have been more surprised than was 
Hogarth when he received his uncle's letter, stating 
that he regretted that he had required his lawyer to 
write the communication that had been sent to Annap- 
olis, that he should make a new will, similar in its pro- 
visions to the flrst, and that the change in his disposition 
had been efiEected by knowledge that had come to him 
that he had been mistaken in regard to certain circum- 
stances that had influenced him to break with his 
nephew. 

Hogarth had at once obeyed the command to call 
on him that Mr. Oldmixon gave, and also the further 
direction to live in the same house with him. The 
warmth of his reception convinced him of its reality, and 
he now saw his way clear to the acquisition of his uncle's 
estate, an event which, he was assured, could not be very 
long delayed. Certainly the old gentleman had begun 
to show within the last few weeks the inroads that his 
advanced age was making on his constitution. 

"A month or two longer," thought Hogarth, as he 
looked at him, ^^ and then all will be mine," 



324 MB. OLDMtXON. 

He had asked for no explanation of his uncle's course 
toward him. He was back in his old place, and appar- 
ently more jBxed than ever, and that was enough for 
him. Inquiry might provoke discussion, and he was 
too wise a man to raise issues that were unnecessary and 
the outcome of which no one could predict. Things 
were well enough as they were, and he was one of those 
men that '' let well enough alone." He had only been 
an inmate of his uncle's house two days when the in- 
terview, the particulars of which are given in the im- 
mediately foregoing chapter, took place. It was the 
first time that Mr. Oldmixon had opened his batteries, 
and, upon the whole, he was well satisfied with the result. 
He had made an impression on his enemy, and that, 
under the circumstances, was a good deal. However, 
he had done tliis with his small guns — ^guns that were not 
intended to do more than to harass and worry, without 
inflicting any serious damage. After he had bombarded 
with them for a few weeks, and had gotten his man into 
a state of semi-insanity, he would make use of his 
heavier ammunition, and he did not doubt that the 
result would be in accordance with his wishes. The 
climax would come. In what exact form, of course he 
did not know ; but it would be suflSciently decisive. 

For a moment, occasionally, he felt some slight degree 
of pity for his victim. To be subject, day after day, to 
the influence of reminders of his crime, made in the 
most insinuating and apparently most innocent way, 
without the shadow of an object that could be perceived, 
was in itself a terrible punishment. Mr. Oldmixon was 
sufficiently well acquainted with the kind of nervous 
organization possessed by the Oldmixons — by all within 
his knowledge, except Jack — ^to know just what the 



THE TORTXTRE IS COTTTKS^UED. 325 

effect of such continual reiteration would be. He had 
only to examine into his own nature a little in order to 
freshen his ideas on the subject and to convince himself 
that Hogarth had already begun to pay the penalty of 
his crime. Occasionally, as I have said, a little gleam 
of pity for his nephew would sweep through his mind ; 
but one tliought of what Camilla had suflEered was suffi- 
cient to dissipate this feeling and to nerve him for fresh 
attempts in the direction of avenging her wrongs. 

Several days elapsed after the incident recorded in 
'the previous chapter before anything very notable oc- 
curred, though there was not one in which Mr. Old- 
mixon did not, though in the most ingenious and ap- 
parently unsophisticated way, make some allusion to 
suffocation as a means of causing death. Sometimes it 
was by one way, and sometimes by another. 

"By the by, Hogarth," he said one morning, when 
they were at breakfast — ^he took his meals at home now, 
for Hogarth, not being a member of the LucuUus Club, 
could not enjoy the privileges of the institution — " did 
you read that account of the curious way in which a 
peasant in France killed his wife ?" 

" I suppose he suffocated her," answered Hogarth, 
crossly ; '^ that mode of murder seems to be running in 
your mind pretty strongly now. Uncle Victor." 

" It is, my dear boy, it is I But did we not agree 
that you should use the word ^ smothered ' ? I remem- 
ber that the first time I introduced the subject you 
could not readily pronounce the word ^suffocated.' 
Now you rattle it off as though you had been practis- 
ing it. You didn't use to stammer before your mar- 
riage ; but listen to my story. It certainly does present 
the most original method of smothering that I ever 




326 KB. OLBXIXOK. 

heard of. The man^ a fimall farmer, quarrelled with his 
wife ; 80 what does he do but pick her up in his arms 
and cany her into the next room, where there was a 
corn-bin full of nice clean yellow com, and plunge her 
head foremost into the mass of grain I There he held 
her for five minutes, notwithstanding her struggles, and 
then, when he pulled her out, she was quite dead. 
Now, did jou ever hear of such a mode of smothering a 
woman as that ?" 

" No, no!" exclaimed Hogarth, roused to an emotion 
somewhat complex in character, for fear and anger and 
horror entered into its composition ; '' I never did, and 
I never want to hear of such things again ; I am nervous 
and irritable, and not myself. I can't sleep ; my head is 
almost constantly aching ; my heart palpitates painfully 
under the least excitement — all, 1 suppose, caused by the 
death of my wife ; then these things that you are always 
talking about make me worse. I shall not sleep to-night, 
for seeing that man ramming his wife's head into the 
corn. 1 shall see her struggling limbs and her livid 
face when he takes her out of the bin. If 1 were well 
I should not care ; but till 1 get stronger, please. Uncle 
Yictor, don't bring up such horrible subjects for con- 
versation." 

^* My poor boy," said Mr. Oldmixon, in a piteous 
tone of voice, '^ I beg your pardon ; I did not know that 
a subject so far removed from your life as is that of suffo- 
cation, or smothering, could cause you pain ; but 1 said 
nothing about the woman's face being livid ; what made 
you think it was livid ?" 

^^ Oh, 1 don't know I" exclaimed Hogarth, wearily; 
^^ it was only a guess ; her face may have been green, 
for all I know." 



THE TORTURE IS CONTINUED. 327 

^* Well,- well, we'll not say anything more about it ; 
let us talk of something more agreeable. I have my 
will here in the drawer ; would you like me to read it to 
you ?" 

All this was more to Hogarth's liking than the subject 
of murdering women by smothering them. He had an 
intense degree of curiosity relative to the exact position 
he occupied in his uncle's will. 

He had not been able to obtain any information on 
the subject, for his friend, Mr. Jeremiah Masters, upon 
whom he had been accustomed to rely for information 
as to what was passing in Mr. Eidley's office, had parted 
from his employer, and had set up for himself ; and 
there was no one else of whom he could make use. He 
had been told over and over again by Mr. Oldmixon that 
matters had been restored to the staPu quo ante heUum, 
but he did not know positively whether the will was 
signed or not ; and until he possessed that knowledge 
the matter of treating his uncle as he had treated his 
wife could not come up in his mind for due deliberation 
and iinal determination. Yes, he would like to hear 
the will read ; but, at the same time, it would not be 
prudent to display too much interest in its contents. 

^'Anything," he said, with a faint smile, '^ would 
be preferable to the gloomy subjects that we have been 
discussing ; but as to your will, uncle, you will do what 
you think right, and 1 shall be satisfied." 

*' Yes, yes, of course ; but 1 think you might as well 
know positively how great is my affection for you, and 
how 1 have tried to show it in a practical way. Sit 
down, then, my dear boy, and listen. This, to be sure, 
is only the rough draft of my will ; and if you would 
like to make any suggestions, I shall be glad to hear them. 



328 MR. OLBMIXOK. 

I hare such entire confidence in yonr good commonHsense 
and ideas of jnfitice." 

As Mr. Oldmixon spoke these words a tinge of sarcasm 
was apparent, or rather would have been apparent to 
aknost any one but Hogarth. This yonng man was too 
greatly interested in the substance of his uncle's remarks 
to attend to the manner. The time had come in which 
he was to be made acquainted with his prospects for the 
future, and the character of those prospects was a subject 
of greater importance to him than any emotional ex- 
pression that his uncle might choose to throw into his 
voice. If he had been a man of greater depth of char- 
acter, he would have paid more attention to a feature 
that, more than the words themselves, shows a speaker's 
real thoughts. 

^^ I trust," he said, " that you will never have cause 
to repent of your confidence. Doubtless you have 
heard stories to my disadvantage, and it is to them that 
I owe your disfavor of a few weeks ago. I am glad that, 
without any efitort of mine, you saw that 1 had been 
wronged, and that of your own free and unsolicited will 
you rectified the injustice I was for a time made to 
suffer." 

'* Yes, ray dear boy, that is all over. 1 am sure you 
are everything that is good and true. Now, there is 
Jack—" 

^' Jack has no heart," interrupted Hogarth ; *' I have 
not forgotten the way in which he treated you many 
years ago. I suppose your recent experiment with him 
was not satisfactory." 

^' No, no ; it did not turn out well. We parted not 
such enemies as we were, but, nevertheless, we parted." 

" He hates me as he does the devil." 



THE TOETIJBE IS CONTINUED. 329 

" Ha I ha 1 very good ; I wonder, now, if he does hate 
the devil," 

"I mean," said Hogarth, laughing gayly, ^'as he 
ought to hate the devil." 

** Oh, yes, of course, I understand," replied Mr. Old- 
mixon. " Now, here is the draft that I propose to send 
down to Mr. Ridley to-day," he continued, fumbling 
among some papers, and finally extraxjting one from the 
mass. ^* Give me your attention for a moment. It is 
short, and I think to the point." 

*' In the first paragraph I have giyen all my estate, of 
every kind whatsoever, to my beloved nephew Hogarth 
Oldmixon, and in the second I have appointed him sole 
executor. Now, what do you think of that ? Short 
and to the point, isn't it ?" 

*' You overwhelm me, Uncle Victor ; I can only 
hope that it may be many years before your will goes 
into effect." 

** Thanks, my dear boy ; 1 know yon are attached to 
me. Now," he continued, regarding Hogarth through 
the medium of the looking-glass, ^'1 did think at one 
time of giving something to Jack — say a tenth part of 
the estate — enough to give him a support if he should 
become blind or otherwise unable to gain his living from 
his profession ; but — " 

"You thought better of it," again interrupted Ho- 
garth. ^^ Jack is not capable of appreciating an act of 
generosity. He is not of an affectionate nature, and all 
he cares for in the world is himself. Self is Jack's 
god." 

** Maybe, maybe I" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon. '^ I'm 
not praising Jack ; I only thought that as he was my 
nephew and your brother, you might be inclined to urge 



■ -. A 




830 MB. OLDlfflXOK. 

the putting of his name in the will. Bnt I leave it all 
to you, my boy — all to you.'^ 

'' Then I say no ; not because I am avaricious and 
want all for myself, but solely because I know Jack is 
not the kind of a man he ought to be. He deserted yon 
while 1 stuck to you. It would be a sort of a premium on 
ingratitude. Why, influenced by what I thought was 
due to you and to myself, I stopped speaking to him 
several years ago. It would — " 

" Say no more," broke in Mr, Oldmixon ; *^ it shall 
be as you wish ; I was sure you would not be influenced 
by any other feeling than a desire to do strict justice." 

" Yes, that's it 1" exclaimed Hogarth, taking eagerly 
to the suggestion. ^^ If I looked at the matter from a 
sentimental point of view, of course I should bear in 
mind that Jack is my brother ; but this is one of those 
subjects that sentiment has nothing to do with, and in 
which impartial justice should be exercised. From that 
point of view I think it would be wrong to give Jack 
one cent." 

^^ I am sure you are right ; your instincts are those of 
a born judge whose ideas are always on the side of right. 
Now, will you be kind enough to take this down to Mr. 
Ridley and request him to put it in proper legal form, 
and to return it to me ? Then, in a day or two I'll execute 
it, and the matter will be off my mind. I feel some- 
times as though I should not live long. You see, I am a 
pretty old fellow, and my death may take place at any 
moment. In fact, I have a little diflSculty of breathing 
now," taking, as he spoke, his vial of the nitrite of amyl 
from his pocket, and putting it to his nostrils — *^ a sort 
of feeling of suffocation or smothering. By the by, do 
you know what burking is ?" 



THE TOETUBE IS CONTHOTED. 331 

*^ No, indeed !" answered Hogarth, with a laugh. 
He was in great good-humor now, and felt inclined to 
be merry over everything. '' How should 1 know ? 
K I had your learning, I should be a much wiser man 
that 1 ever expect to be. What is it ?" 

" You see how Iny mind is running continually on 
one subject. I shouldn't be surprised if I became a 
monomaniac on it. There's insanity in the family, you 
know. Tour father was certainly a lunatic, so was your 
grandfather, and so, also, was one of your aunts. I've 
been called ^ queer ' all my life. Now, there's Jack. 
He takes after his mother, and is level-headed, even if 
he is heartless and selfish, as you say. But to go back 
to burking. Burking is only another name for smother- 
ing. It is generally done by its perpetrators by simply 
putting the hand over the nose and mouth of the victim, 
BO as to shut out the air." 

" Smothering again 1" gasped Hogarth, sinking into 
a chair, entirely overcome by the sudden revulsion of 
feeling that Mr. Oldmixon's words had produced. 
*' Is that matter to be always on your mind, and are you 
always going to bring it up before me ? My God ! what 
do you mean ?" he exclaimed, with sudden energy, 
springing up from his chair and approaching his uncle. 
" One would think that you are driving at me, and that 
you thought I had smothered some one. "What do 
you mean ? Tell me instantly, or — " He stretched 
out his hands as though to seize his uncle by the throat 
and force an answer out of him. The latter, who had 
also risen, stood by the side of the table, one hand 
resting carelessly on a little button raised about a half 
an inch above the surface of the green cloth, the other 
in his trousers pocket, apparently jingling a bunch of 




332 MB. OLDMIXOl^. 

keys. Nothing could have exceeded the coohiess and 
composure manifested by Mr. Oldmixon. He knew 
that Hogarth was entirely willing to strangle him then 
and there, but he was also aware that he himself held 
the trump card in the unexecuted will, and that all that 
was necessary was to bring Hogarth to a sense of that 
fact. Without, therefore, appearing to notice the excite- 
ment under which his nephew labored, he said, in the 
most unconcerned manner imaginable : 

" Don't forget to see Ridley this morning, my dear 
Hogarth. I want to get through with that matter as 
soon as possible. You smother any one I" he continued ; 
*^ I'd as soon suspect the President of the United States 
of picking a pocket." 

At the first words Hogarth's hands fell. It would 
not do to use violence yet. The will by which Jack got 
the estate was probably still in existence, and the new 
one was unexecuted. No, he must wait. Matters were 
not ripe yet for such extreme action. 

"Yoii irritate me very much, Uncle Victor," he 
said, in an injured tone of voice. " Year remarks are 
so pointed, that for the moment it seems as though you 
referred to me. Of course, when I come to reflect upon 
the subject, I know that my suspicions are unwarranted ; 
but reflection requires time. I am a very sensitive man, 
and my recent great affliction has made me still more 
so." 

*' I should not have told you what burking is unless 
you had asked me what the word meant. Did you never 
hear of Burke and his partner Hare, who, many years 
ago, made their living by suffocating people in the way 
I mentioned, and then selling the dead bodies to the 
medical colleges for dissection ? Eead the * History of 



THE TOBTUBE IS CONTINUED. 333 

Burke and Hare. ' I have it here, and will be happy to 
lend it to you." 

" I do not want to read it ; it must be very horrible 1" 

*' Yes, it is horrible," rejoined Mr. Oldraixon, shrug- 
ging his shoulders, " for all such descriptions .excite the 
pity in a man's breast for the victims, as well as horror 
and detestation of the criminals. But if horrible to us 
when we simply read of the vile deeds, how much more 
fearful must have been the feelings of the wretches who 
murdered innocent people !" 

^' Yes," answered Hogarth, moodily, ^^ they must have 
experienced that greatest of all mental torments — ^re- 
morse." 

*' Of course — that is, if they had ordinary human 
emotions. Now, look at this portrait of Burke," taking 
up, as he spoke, the book from the table, and showing 
Hogarth the picture of a brutal-looking man. " Did you 
ever see a face so utterly devoid of the ' milk of human 
kindness ' as that ? That man smothered about twenty 
people. He used a very simple process — only stopping 
the nose and mouth. Once, however, he put a pillow 
over the face, and that he thought was a better plan, as it 
prevented his seeing the last pleading look of the poor 
creatures. Yes," he continued, as though talking to 
himself, ''if I were going to smother a person, espe- 
cially a woman, I should prefer to cover the face with a 
pillow. 1 should not like to have that last look haunt- 
ing my memory. Why, my dear boy I" as, looking 
at Hogarth, ho saw his nephew standing erect, his eyes 
dilated, his hands outstretched, his lips moving, but no 
sound escaping, his face as pale at that of a ghost, and 
his mind apparently oblivious to what was going on 
about him. " Poor boy I" continued Mr. Qldmixon, 



834 MB. OLDMIXON. 

approaching the statue-like figure, '^ your troubles have 
unnerved you; come," laying a hand on his shoulder, 
and shaking him gently, ^' rouse yourself. Your nerves 
are indeed weak. Hogarth 1" shaking him more vio- 
lently, '^ what's the matter ? By Heaven ! I beUeve he 
has a fit I" as his nephew remained rigid and uncon- 
scious, his eyes staring at vacancy. " Well, well," he 
said to himself, ^' 1 must go a little more slowly. He's 
not quite ready to confess yet, and I'm not quite ready 
to have him die. I wonder how my nitrite of amyl 
would do for him ?" 

Mr. Oldmixon took the little vial from his waistcoat 
pocket, and pouring a few drops on a handkerchief, held 
it to Hogarth's face. Almost instantly the spasm re- 
laxed, the extended arms fell, the stare ceased, and, with 
a long inspiration, consciousness was restored. 

"I had a dream, I think," said Hogarth, feebly, as 
he lay down on a lounge, Mr. Oldmixon putting a pillow 
under his head and giving him a glass of wine. ^ ^ 1 don't 
quite know what it was. My mind isn't clear yet, but 1 
thought I saw Camilla looking at me. Didn't you say 
something about ^ last looks ' ? I don't know — ^perhaps 
I had better not talk till my mind gets clearer ; I Height 
say something that wasn't true, you know — something 
that would do me harm. Of course dreams are not true. 
Did I say anything ? If I did 1 take it back now. I — 
1 — " here his voice became inarticulate, and he fell into 
a heavy stupor, from which he did not emerge for several 
hours. 

In the mean time Mr. Oldmixon called his valet to 
look after Hogarth, while he, taking with him the manu- 
script with which he had been engaged just before his 
nephew's arrival, went into a little room in which he 



THE TOETTJEB IS CONTINUED. 335 

sometimes did his writing, and again busied himself in 
making alterations in the text of his novel. 

Every now and then, however, he would stop, and, 
throwing himself back in his chair, indulge in serious 
reflections relative to the actual situation of the matter 
that so fully occupied his mind. Events were moving 
to suit him, and exactly as he had anticipated. He be- 
lieved that Hogarth was on the verge of confessing, and 
that a little more torture would bring him to the speak- 
ing point. ^ 

" And he shall have it I" he exclaimed, rising from 
his chair and hurriedly pacing the floor ; ^' I don't care 
about his speaking too soon. He hasn't suffered half 
enough yet. I'll bring him to the brink of acknowledg- 
ing his guilt, and then I'll let up on him and give him a 
reviving inhalation, as the victims of bodily torture were 
brought back to consciousness by a restoring draught. I 
really thought I had lost him to-day. 

" He came very near trying to kill me," he contin- 
ued, after he had walked in silence. '' One step farther, 
and I should have rung my electric bell and brought 
Thomas to the rescue. But pshaw ! He will try noth- 
ing of that kind with me till the will is signed ; and if I 
don't know enough to beat him at that game I'd better 
hang a millstone around my neck and throw myself into 
the river. If I, Victor Constantino Oldmixon, with the 
astuteness of the devil himself, can't get ahead of a 
clumsy knave like Hogarth, then there's no use in hav- 
ing brains. 

" Poor Jack 1" he went on, after another long pause ; 
" I hope he knows that I haven't deserted him, and that 
nothing but a stem sense of duty would prompt me to 
have that beast — ^that basilisk — near me. Well, well, by 



836 MB. OLDXIXON. 

George I I have almost forgotten my beanty, the most 
Bensible woman I ever saw. Barbara I What a pretty 
name ! I'll go and see her, and I'll let her into my 
confidence, as I did before." 

He put his manuscript away, and going to his dress- 
ing-room, arrayed himself in the most unexceptionable 
attire for the street. Then he rang for his conp6, and 
after taking a look at Hogarth, who was still in a stnpor 
and breathing laboriously, he ordered his coachman to 
drive to Mr. Henschel's. 



CHAPTER XXIII. 



HOGABTH HAS AN IDEA. 



Hogarth lay in a stupid condition till nearly four 
o'clock ; then he began to regain consciousness. He sat 
up, looked wildly about him, put his hand to his head as 
though he might be endeavoring to recall the incidents 
that had brought him to his present condition, and then 
slowly arose to his feet. He staggered, however, and 
would have fallen if Thomas, who was on the alert, had 
not held him up. 

*'What a horrid headache!" he said, as the man 
assisted him to a chair ; " can't you do something for 
me?" 

'' I don't know, sir," answered the man ; '' Mr. Old- 
mixon sometimes puts ice on his head when it aches. 
Shall 1 get some for you, sir ?" 

'' Yes ; break Bome ice and wrap it in a towel and put 
it on my head." 

'' I'm not clear at all," he said, after the man had left 

the room ; '' it seems to me that the last thing I recollect 

is that some one was trying to smother me, and that 

Camilla is somehow mixed up with it. I saw her face 

for one instant just before I covered it with the pillow, 

and 1 saw it again just now — ^just now ! — my God, it is 

there before me at this moment ! No," he added, more 

calmly, ^' it was only imagination. 1 can never see it 

again, and I never want to see it again — why, yes, there 
15 



338 MS. OLDiaxox.. 

it is ! It goes and comes like a luJliiciiuitiim, and that's 
what it is, that's all — ^tbe last look giTenby a person that 
is about to die, and given to the man hj whom death is 
coming ! IVe seen it once, and, mj God ! it seems as 
though I could never again shut it out from my eyes. I 
was all right till I came to this cursed house to live, and 
that fiend began with his devilish tricks. I suppose it is 
unintentional, or rather that he does it for his amuse- 
ment, or perhaps simply from indifference to what I may 
feeL He cannot know anything ; ihat is impossible ; 
and if he did, he wouldn't be such an infernal scoundrel 
as to go to work deliberately to torture me in this way ; 
no, he cannot know ; he cannot be unfriendly to me. His 
speech is kind enough, and then he shows his real thoughts 
when ho takes me back, invites me to his house, and 
makes his will in my favor. 

*' By Heaven 1 the more I think of it the more 1 am 
convinced that he is insane on the subject of smothering. 
1 believe he knows he is. He hinted at something of 
the kind just now. 1 suppose if that is so that I shall 
have to stand it for a while, till the will is signed, and 
then — " Again his fingers clutched at an imaginary 
something, and were pressed convulsively against his 
palms ; then they opened, and again closed, continuing 
these movements for perhaps a minute, while he lay back 
in the chair, with his eyes closed and his lips retracted, 
so as to show his teeth. 

'' Yes," ho continued, after he had apparently exhaust- 
ed the excitability of his hands, '' I shall have to do it. 
Ho has given me some valuable lessons, and, by God f I'll 
make use of tliem on him. He's too uncertain a man to 
1)0 depended on. He might change in a week over some 
fancied insult or something else, and bring back that milk- 



\ 



HOGABTH HAS AK IDEA. 339 

sop Jack. Well, I put a spoke in his wheel to-day, and 
that's something. Ah 1 Thomas, here you are. Yes, tliat 
will do ; now put it on my head, and go and get me a 
bottle of Vichy. You have Vichy in the house, 1 suppose ?" 

" Oh, yes, sir," answered the man, as he put the towel, 
full of cracked ice, on Hogarth's head, making a kind of 
skull-cap of it, and putting another towel around his neck 
to absorb the water that ran down ; '' Mr. Oldmixon has 
all the mineral waters ; you can have any one you wish." 

'^ I'll stick to the Vichy. I feel better already." As 
the man left the room Hogarth got up and looked over 
the papers on the library table till he found the rough 
draft of the will that Mr. Oldmixon had left there. He 
read it over very carefully several times. '' Yes,'^ he 
said, as he folded it up and put it into his pocket, ^' it's 
all right. I believe he's honest. It would be impossible 
for him to do this if he knew anything, and was trying 
to entrap me ; he couldn't be such an infernal scoundrel ! 
I'll try and get used to his smothering mania, for that's 
what it is, and the next time he mentions it I'll go him 
one better. I'll tell a worse story than he can tell, and 
I'll show him that I can play the game of bluff as well 
as he. Thanks," as Thomas came in with the Vichy ; 
" set it down, and I'll help myself when I'm ready for 
it. I feel pretty well now, so you needn't stay. Has 
Mr. Oldmixon gone out ?" 

'* Yes, sir ; he went out an hour ago." 

*' Do you know where he went ?" 
No, sir ; but I suppose he went to the club." 
Oh, yes, I suppose he did. That will do. I'll go 
to my room, I think, and get ready for a walk. If my 
uncle comes in, tell him I shall be back in time for 
dinner." 






i 



340 MB. OLDMIXON. 

The man bowed and left the room, and Hogarth, after 
drinking nearly the whole of the bottle of Vichy, repaired 
to his bedroom, and began dressing for the street. He 
took off the brown velvet sack-coat that he generally 
wore when in the house, and was proceeding to put on a 
frock-coat of stylish cut, when a letter fell from one of 
the pockets to the floor. He stooped and picked it up, 
and immediately recognized it as the one that he had re- 
ceived from his friend Jeremiah Masters, informing him 
that Mr. Oldmixon had willed his property to Jack on 
condition that he should marry a lady unknown to the 
writer. Heading this letter again, his curiosity became 
excited as to who was the woman in whom his unde took 
such great interest as to provide for her marriage to a 
man who was then his favorite nephew, and in case of 
his neglect or refusal to marry her, making her the resid- 
uary legatee of his entire estate. He had overlooked 
this circumstance, and the fact, now brought back to his 
recollection, gave him great uneasiness. He was by na- 
ture suspicious and prone to attribute concealed motives 
to persons with whom he had relations, so that it was 
not astonishing that the matter in question should have 
caused him additional discomfort. Had his uncle lost 
his interest in this woman at the same time that he had 
cast Jack off a second time ? Would there be any such 
provision in the new will to be made in his favor ? Why 
should there be this anxiety shown for her marriage, and 
this great consideration for her welfare by giving her 
nearly a million dollars ? 

He stood with his hand to his head, vainly endeavor- 
ing to answer these questions in a way satisfactory to 
himself. He was not yet quite restored to his normal 
condition. His head still ached with a dull, heavy pain, 



HOaARTH HAS AK IDEA. 341 

that rendered him, to a certain extent, stupid and incapa- 
ble of grasping diflBcnlt questions like those that he had 
asked himself. Suddenly his face lit np with an expres- 
sion that indicated that he had reached a solution of the 
matter. *' By God I" he exclaimed, with all the empha- 
sis of which he was capable, '' I believe I've got it at 
last.'* The result did not, however, give him much 
pleasure, if a judgment could be formed from his counte- 
nance ; but it certainly tended to quicken his movements, 
so that in a few minutes he had completed his toilet, 
and was on his way down-stairs to the library. '^ If niy 
tmcle were to die to-night," he said, as he went down 
the steps, ^' or if anything should prevent the execution 
of the new will, this woman, whoever she is, would get 
the estate. That is a matter for serious contemplation, 
and," he added, ^' for a little detective service. I must 
find out who this woman is ; but how ?" While still 
lost in the difficulties of this last interrogation, he entered 
the library, where he found Thomas engaged in remov- 
ing the empty Vichy bottle and setting Mr. Oldmixon's 
table in order. ^'Perhaps," thought Hogarth, "this 
fellow may be able to give me some information. 

*^ 1 suppose you never have lady visitors, Thomas," he 
said, " although, from the neatness that prevails over the 
whole house, I should think you had them very often." 

'* Ifo, sir ; I don't think any woman ever comes into 
this house except the laundress every week and the 
scrubbers every month." 

'' And my uncle, being such an inveterate old bachelor, 
visits no ladies, of course?" he said, interrogatively. 

" Well, sir, 1 don't know about that," replied Thomas, 
with a grin ; *' Mr. Oldmixon's pretty well up in years 
now, but he likes a pretty face when he sees it." 



342 HB. OLDMIXOK. 

^^ Oh, yes, of course ! Every man does till the day of 
his death, if he lives to be a hundred. But he never 
took any decided fancy to any particular one, did he?" 

" I ain't so sure of that neither," answered Thomas, 
still grinning with the consciousness of superior knowl- 
edge ; '^ I guess there's one that he thinks a good deal 
of, but that's only a guess ; and if he was to know 
that I'd said such a thing, he'd turn me off the next 
minute." 

"Oh, that's all right ! He'll never know from me; 
and besides," he added, laughing, *^ there's no great harm 
in a gentleman, even if he is seventy-five years old, ad- 
miring a pretty girl, is there, especially if the pretty 
girl admires him?" 

*' No, sir ; no, sir ; I guess there ain't no great wrong 
in it ; but Mr. Oldmixon keeps this so mighty close that 
no one knows anything about it except Dan the coach- 
man, and you couldn't get him to tell where he drove to 
if you was to prod him with red-hot irons, or give him a 
mint of money. Nothing ever has influence with Dan 
after Mr. Oldmixon tells him to hold his tongue." 

" Well, Thomas, that isn't a bad trait in a servant ; but 
in a little matter like this Dan might afford to be more 
communicative. Now, I want to play off a little joke on 
my uncle that I think will amuse him, and I'd like to 
know who the lady is that the old gentleman admires so 
highly." 

" There ain't any use, sir, in going to Dan ; nothing 
would make him open his mouth." 

" Not even twenty dollars ?" 

" Twenty dollars !" exclaimed Thomas, with strong 
contempt in his tone. '' No, sir, nor twenty times twen- 
ty, nor twenty times that. You see, Dan's lived with 



HOGABTH HAS AN IDEA. 843 

Mr. Oldmixon over forty years. He gets the biggest 
wages of any eoachman in the city, and Mr. Oldmixon's 
already given him two thousand dollars, which pays him 
more than a hundred a year from a mortgage that he put it 
in. But that ain't all. Last New Tear's day he gave 
Dan a hundred dollars, and told him that if he was his 
coachman next New Year's day he'd give him a thou- 
sand more. Now, you see, all that keeps Dan's mouth 
shut. Then, besides, he's nearly Mr. Oldmixon's age, 
so that there's a fellow-feeling between them." 

" So you think it's no use to try to find out anything 
from Dan ?" 

*^ 1 don't think anything about it, sir ; 1 know it ain't 
no use. But," continued Thomas, who was under no 
such bonds to keep silent as was Dan,, and who coveted 
the twenty dollars and doubtless more that Mr. Hogarth 
seemed disposed to give for information that would en- 
able him to get off his little joke, *' I know a point or two 
about that little affair as might lead, if you worked it well, 
to your knowing all about it." 

" How's that, Thomas ? I'll give you twenty dollars 
now for your ^ point or two ; ' and if they lead to cer- 
tainty, I'll make it a hundred more." 

" "Well, it's just this. Dan let out quite accidentally 
that Mr. Oldmixon was at a bird-stuffer's talking with a 
young lady once for half an hour, and once for an hour 
or more. But the minute I asked him what bird-stuffer, 
he was mum, and I couldn't get a word more out of 
him. Now, I know Mr. Oldmixon brought a stuffed ca- 
nary bird home with him one day, and he's got it now 
in a silver box locked up in that old Dutch cabinet over 
there in the comer. Now, sir, while the silver box was 
being made for that bird, he kept it under a glass shade 



844 MB. OLDMIXOK. 

on that table there, and I've seen him kiss it two or three 
times when he didn't think any one was around." 

"That's very strange," thought Hogarth; *^I won- 
der if that can be the same bird that escaped from the 
window opposite, and that flew in here. Why should he 
have it stuffed ? And why should he kiss it ? Doubt- 
less because that woman stuffed it. Now, who the devil 
can she be ? 

** You have no idea what bird-stuffer did the work!" 

*' No, sir ; but it can't be very difficult to find out, for 
I think the same one — and she's a woman, that 1 know- 
did an animal for Mr. Jack." 

" Oh, that's it, is it ? But how do you know that the 
bird-stuffer is a woman ?" 

*^How do 1 know it, sir 1" exclaimed Thomas, as 
though there was in the question an imputation on his 
ability to acquire knowledge, " well, sir, I know it be- 
cause she was here in this very room.' ' 

** In this room 1 Why, not ten minutes ago, you told 
me that no woman ever came here but the laundress and 
the scrubbers.' ' 

*'So 1 did, sir," said Thomas, a little abashed, "but 
that was before — before — " 

'' Before I had promised you twenty dollars," inter- 
rupted Hogarth, with a laugh. 

''Yes, sir." 

" Well, now that you know what I'm going to do for 
you, I suppose you'll tell me all you know ?" 

'' Yes, sir. The young woman came here with a sort 
of an animal she'd stuffed for Mr. Jack — one that he 
brought home with him from Canada." 

'' So she stuffed something for Mr. Jack, did she ? Go 
on." 



HOGARTH HAS AN IDEA. 345 

**Te8, sir, and she thought he lived here; she had 
lost the direction he gave her, and then she looked in 
the directory, and she came here, thinking this was his 
house. " 

" Well, and what did she say or do after she came 
here!" 

'' Not much ; I didn't know that it was worth while to 
ask her any questions, or, of course, I could have got out 
of her all I wanted to know. I'd like to see the woman 
I couldn't get around when I tried," he added, com- 
placently. 

^' You didn't find out her name ?" 

^^ No, sir, for I didn't think it was of any importance 
to know ; but she's the one that Mr. Oldmixon spent so 
much time with, and she stuflfed them two things, the bird 
for him and the badger — it looked like a badger — for 
Mr. Jack." 

" How do you know that she stuflfed the bird for my 
uncle?" 

" Because it was on the table when she came here, and 
she saw it, and I asked her if she had stuffed that bird, and 
she said she had." 

*' That seems pretty straight," said Hogarth, as though 
speaking to himself. '' Here, Thomas," he continued, 
addressing that individual — " here's your twenty dollars. 
Now, I've only got to find out where she lives, and that 
completes the affair so far as the identification goes. Can 
you give me no clew ?" 

^' Oh, yes, sir ! She told me she was in partnership with 

her father. Now, here's a business directory ; look through 

it for the bird-stuffers, and note them that has partners. 

Then go to each one in turn till you find it. You can do 

it with a cab in an hour. Or I'll do it for you, sir, if you 
15* 



346 MB. OLDMIXOK. 

like/' he added, having in mind an amplification of his 
bonus. 

*' Yes, that will do exactly. Give me the boof 

Taking the volume from Thomas, Hogarth turned to 
the page containing the list of all the taxidermists doing 
business in New York, and ran his eyes over the column. 

" There are only three with more than one person in 
the firm," he said ; " there's * Tophan & Byles,' ^ Jones 
& Williams,' and ^ Thomas Bangs & Company.' " 

*' That's it !" exclaimed Thomas ; "you see, it can't 
be either of the others, for the names are different, and she 
said she was in with her father. * Thomas Bangs & 
Company ' — I'll bet that's the one. " 

''Seventy-three Lake Street," continued Hogarth, 
reading from the directory. " Go down there this even- 
ing, Thomas, while we are at dinner ; and if she's the one, 
leave a note on my dressing-table." 

•' There's something going on here that 1 don't under- 
stand," he said, as he walked down Fifth Avenue ; "if 
anything happens before the new will is signed she gets 
the money, unless Jack marries her, and then he gets it. 
If she was to marry me now she couldn't marry Jack, and 
that would cut him out altogether, and I'd get the estate 
almost as completely as though he had willed it to me 
direct. It's a complicated business, and I don't quite see 
my way clear. I'm afraid the old man intends to do 
something, and that this draft of a new will is all a sham. 
One thing is certain : if he was to die to-night and 1 was 
her husband, she'd have the money, and that would be the 
same as if 1 had it. There's no getting over that. By 
George !" as an idea suddenly occurred to him, " I'll go 
and see Masters — five o'clock," taking out his watch and 
holding it contemplatively in his hand. " It's rather 




HOGAKTH HAS AN IDEA. 347 

late to go down-town, and it's rather early to find him at 
home. I'll risk it." He put his watch into his pocket, 
and crossing the street at Madison Square, took a cab from 
the stand there, and told the driver to go to 107 East 
Henson Street. 

" 1 ought to have gone to Masters long ago about the 
matter," he said, as he took out his cigar-case and, light- 
ing a cigar, lay back in the vehicle and smoked, more for 
the sake of the company the act gave him than from any 
other gratification. ^' He's a bright man in such things, 
and he's a friend of mine too. Besides, he's not troubled 
with scruples when his interest is at stake. Neither am 
I under like circumstances. " 

It took but a few minutes to reach Mr. Masters*s resi- 
dence. It was a house that had once been occupied by 
people of a good class, and was in a street that had once 
been respectable, but which was now filled with all de- 
scriptions of disreputable and semi-disreputable persons, 
who carried on various kinds of business that, if not posi- 
tively unlawful, required the constant vigilance of the 
police to keep them from becoming so. No. 107, in 
which Mr. Masters lived, was on one side bounded by a 
low concert and drinking hall and on the other by a 
swindling policy shop and gambling establishment, fre- 
quented habitually by the worst characters that a large 
city like New York is able to produce. 

The house had that dilapidated appearance that is so 
characteristic of New York houses when they begin to 
decline in respectability. Hogarth ascended the front 
steps, which were already showing signs of a departure 
from the degree of rectangularity that well-ordered con- 
structions of the kind exhibit. He had some little diffi- 
culty in ringing the bell, and then, when he finally sue- 



348 KB. OLDMIXON. 

• 

ceeded in prodncing a faint soand, was forced to wait 
Beveral minutes and to pull the handle repeatedly before 
he heard the footsteps that announced the coming of 
some one to open the door. 

" I'm sorry to have kept yon waiting," said the 
slovenly and otherwise unprepossessing woman who let 
him in ; ^^ the girl is out on an errand, and I was up- 
stairs attending to my brother, who is not well to-day. 
Do you wish to see him on business, sir ?" 

^' 1 did wish to see him on a matter of business," said 
Hogarth, " but since he is not well, I will call again. 
Please give him this card, and ask him to send me a line 
telling me when and where I can see him." 

The woman took the card, and looking at it, exclaimed, 
*^ Oh, you are Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon ! He'll see you, 
I am sure. Just step inside and wait in the parlor till I 
tell him you're here. Things don't look very nice," 
she continued, as she ushered Hogarth into a shabbily 
furnished room, " for Jeremiah's sickness has prevented 
me looking after matters. Take a seat, please, and I'll 
let him know at once." 

Hogarth sat down on the hair-cloth-covered chair that 
she pushed toward him, and endeavored to amuse himself 
till Miss Masters returned by looking around the room. 
There was nothing, however, to attract his attention, not 
a picture, not a book, not an ornament of any kind. 
There was a white marble-top table, a hair-cloth sofa, 
four chairs of the same description, an ingrain carpet, 
and that was all. Fortunately for his peace of mind, 
he did not have to wait long, for in two or three minutes 
Miss Masters re-entered the room, and informed him that 
her brother would see him at once. Hogarth followed 
her up one flight of stairs and into the room in which 






HOGAETH HAS AN IDEA. 349 

Mr. Jeremiah Masters sat, arrayed in a gaudy dressing- 
gown, and, like liis sister, presenting a decidedly un- 
kempt appearance, and looking, besides, as though he had 
just got out of the tumbled bed that occupied the greater 
part of the room. 

*' Leave us, Belinda, please," he said, addressing His 
sister ; '* Mr. Oldmixon probably wishes to consult me 
upon matters of private business. I didn't want to miss 
the chance of seeing you," he continued, after the lady 
had departed, " for 1 thought, from the fact of your 
coming here, that something important might have oc- 
curred. Am I right ?" Ho looked sharply at Hogarth 
as he put this question, and then, without waiting for an 
answer, went on : 

" I woke up with a horrid headache this morning, and 
didn't go down to the office ; but I don't know any man 
whose affairs want looking after as much as yours do, 
and 1 am perfectly willing to devote my time, sick or 
well, to your service. Now, is there anything special ?" 

*' Yes ; I have the rough draft of my uncle's new will 
in my pocket, and I'm to take it to-morrow to Mr. Rid- 
ley to have it engrossed into proper form. Would you 
like to see it ?" 

He handed the paper to Mr. Masters, and the latter 
read it over two or three times. 

" It seems to be sufficiently explicit," he said, as he 
handed it back to Hogarth. ^^ I have known cases, 
however, in which the lawyer drawing up the will had re- 
ceived private instructions to leave out some requisite 
feature, so as to make the instrument invalid. The tes- 
tator in such a case makes a great show of executing a 
will, for the purpose of deceiving interested parties, 
while all the time there is another will, properly drawn 



350 MB. OLBMIXOK. 



and executed, hidden away, to be broaght out when the 
proper time comes." 

" Do you think my uncle would do that with me f" 

^^ 1 think your uncle is so entirely unscrupulous that 
he would do whatever he wanted to do." 

*' But with what object ? Men don't become recon- 
ciled with nephews they have discarded and in whose 
favor they have made new wills for nothing. And as 
to motive for so much hypocrisy, I don't see it. Do 
you think he is a man to act the liar and the traitor sim- 
ply from the love of evil ?" 

Mr. Masters, before answering this question, stroked 
his chin with each hand alternately, as though, by thus 
stimulating the cutaneous surface of that part of his 
body, his thoughts would follow more rapidly. It was 
not a nice-looking chin. It was unshaven, and it was 
unclean, and it was misshapen ; but the gentle friction 
produced by its possessor's fingers appeared to excite the 
necessary cerebral action ; for after about two minutes 
devoted to this process, Mr. Masters spoke : 

*' Do you think you know your uncle ?" 

" Do I think I know him ? Well, I ought to know 
him, seeing that I've lived in the same house or in in- 
timate association with him almost ever since I was 
bom." 

^' You might easily do that, and still not know Mr. 
Oldmixon. To my mind, he is the most secretive and 
the most unknowable man I ever saw. "Where is the old 
will ?" 

'' I don't know. Perhaps it's destroyed." 

** I know it isn't destroyed. At least, it was in exist* 
ence at this time yesterday, for I saw it." 

'' You saw it 1 Where ?" 



HOGABTH HAS AN IDEA. 351 

*' I was in Mr. Ridley's office ; he had sent for me in 
regard to a case that he had when I was with him and that 
1 understood. I saw a copy of this very draft that you 
have on his table, and I saw the other will there too. 
That will at this moment is worth all the rough drafts 
in the world. " 

^' Are you perfectly familiar with the terms of that 
will?" asked Hogarth, anxiously. 

'^Perfectly." 

''But you don't know the name of the woman to 
whom the estate goes in case Jack does not marry her ?" 

" !No ; the name was left blank." 

" Then I am wiser than you, for I know." 

" You do ! How did you find out ?" 

" By a process of reasoning from certain premises. 
She's a bird-stuflEer, and her name is Bangs." 

• 

^' It may be," said Mr. Masters, reflectively ; '' Mr. 
Oldmixon, I know, had at about the time the will was 
drawn up some dealings with a taxidermist." 

*' Yes ; she stuffed a canary bird for him." 

" True ; 1 recollect now. I heard him speaking of it 
to Mr. Ridley and extolling the workmanship. But 
are you sure of the name ?" 

" ^ot entirely, but I shall be by to-night. Every- 
thing, however, points to Miss Bangs as the legatee." 

'' You'd better go and marry her ; for, as sure as I be- 
lieve in the existence of the world, I don't believe that 
Mr. Oldmixon intends to make a new will." 

" What makes you think so ?" 

" My general knowledge of his character, which tells 
me that when he makes an ostentatious show of doing any- 
thing he generally means to do the very reverse. The 
suddenness with which you were called back after I had 




352 HB. OLDHIXON. 

heard him denoance you as the greatest scoundrel the 
world had ever produced, and when nothing had oc- 
curred to cause him to change his opinion ; the fact that 
your brother Jack and he are on the most affectionate 
terms with each other, while he pretends to you that he 
has quarrelled with him.'* 

" You don't say that he and Jack are friendly 1" ex- 
claimed Hogarth, rising from his chair, and pacing the 
floor hurriedly. 

*' Yes, I do ; they met at Mr. Ridley's yesterday, and 
were discussing this very matter of the will.*' 

*' Then the old villain means to play me false ! He 
has some devilish scheme on hand that I have not 
fathomed. Is there no way to be even with him ?" 

" I can counsel you to nothing unlawful. But there is 
no reason, so far as I can see, why you should not many 
the girl. She knows nothing about being Mr. Old- 
mixon's heiress, and your brpther has refused to marry 
her." 

'' Jack has refused to marry her ! By Heaven ! why 
have you kept this from me, when you must have knowD 
how anxious I was on the subject ?" 

" Because, my friend, I am engaged in making my 
living by practising the profession of the law. There 
are matters that 1 am going to give you the right to use 
for a consideration, and that consideration h the sum of 
one hundred thousand dollars, to be paid to me within 
thirty days after you marry the heiress." 

'^ But you have told me, and I can use them for noth- 
mg." 

'^ Oh, no ; for unless you sign this little document to 
the effect that, for value received, you promise to pay, 
thirty days after sight, to Jeremiah Masters or order, 



HOGARTH HAS AN IDEA. 353 

one hundred thousand dollars, value received, I shall im- 
mediately inform your uncle of this interview, and notify 
Miss Bangs of your designs. Sign it, and we are friends, 
and you shall have my best services ; refuse, and your 
game is at an end. " 

Hogarth was no fool. He saw that he was in the 
power of this man ; so, after some further conversation, 
he signed the note, and prepared to take his departure to 
begin the operations upon which he trusted for success. 

" There's one thing more I'd like to know," he said, 
*^ and that is, why Jack refused to marry the girl ?" 

*' Because he's in love with another woman. 1 heard 
Mr. Ridley and Mr. Oldmixon talking it over ; and though 
your uncle regretted the fact, he declared that it should 
not cause him to change his will. In fact, it's the girl 
he wants to have the money, and neither you nor your 
brother." 

" I wonder why he takes such an interest in this 
woman ! Do you know ?" 

"No, I don't." 

** 1 believe she's his mistress." 

*^ I think you are mistaken." 

*^ I'll probe the matter to the bottom. But I'm ready 
to marry her. I'm not squeamish." 

" I'm sure you're mistaken." 

" There's nothing else that could account for his 
interest. He simply wants to provide for her hand- 
somely, and get her a husband at the same time. Jack 
has found out his little game, and has refused. He is 
squeamish, but /'m not. So long as she's to have nearly 
a million dollars I'll take her, even if I have to father a 
lot of bastards into the bargain." 



CHAPTER XXIV. 



" HEB HEABT BANK WITHDf HEB.'* 



Mr. Oldmtxon was in great good-humor, and as he 
drove down the street on his way to the house where he 
had last seen Barbara Henschel, he fairly chuckled with 
delight at the success that he had thus far obtained 
from his procedures against Hogarth. It may as well 
be said here that Mr. Jeremiah Masters was entirely 
right in his suspicions relative to Mr. Oldmixon's con- 
templated action. That gentleman had not the most 
distant idea of making another will. The one that Mr. 
Ridley had in his fire-proof and burglar-proof safe was 
exactly in accordance with his wishes, as much so as when 
he had signed it. To be sure, Jack's refusal to marry 
the woman he had selected for him had discomposed him 
somewhat ; but he had reflected that, after all, his chief 
object was to give the estate to Barbara, and that if 
Jack did not choose to share it with her, or rather to 
get it for himself, the loss would be his. 

Then he reflected that the end as regarded his scoun- 
drelly nephew Hogarth was approaching very rapidly. 
The constant iteration and reiteration of the same sub- 
ject was beginning to affect the fellow. At first he had 
disregarded it ; then he had attempted to brave it out 
with a bullying air ; but at last he had succumbed, and 
henceforth the contest would be all on one side. 

As he thought of the matter he endeavored to form 



'^ HER HEAET- SANK! WITHIN HER." 355 

some idea of the manner in which the climax would 
appear, and he came to the conclusion that it would be 
in the form of insanity. Already he saw indications of 
the approach of that disorder, and these occurring in a 
person so strongly predisposed by hereditary tendency 
as was Hogarth appeared to him to point, with irresistible 
force, to the speedy advent of a condition the existence 
of which in his nephew would be an ample atonement 
for the crime he had committed. 

^* It's about the worst thing that could happen," he 
said to himself, as his coup6 rolled down Fifth Avenue, 
" but not a bit worse than he deserves to receive at my 
hands, and I don't mean to let up a bit. He shall have 
the full measure to which his crime entitles him, and if 
he dies in a lunatic asylum well and good. 

*^ What a mean, contemptible dog he is ! See how he 
tried to cut off poor Jack without even a dollar I * And 
he's getting dangerous too. He would have killed me 
if it hadn't been for the hold of the will that I have 
over him. He's not going to kill the goose that lays the 
golden egg. Not a bit of it ! 

'' Jack's a stupid fellow, if he is a great painter," he 
continued, the idea being probably excited by the fact 
that, looking out of the window of the coupe, he saw the 
" Vandyke," where Jack had his lodgings and studio near 
by in a cross street. '^ Here's the prettiest and the best 
girl in New York offered him for a wife, and he refuses 
her as though she were an Irish bog-trotter or a German 
sausage-maker. She's too good for him. I wonder who 
the devil he's after 1 If he isn't entirely caught, I 
wouldn't despair yet of bringing him to Barbara Hen- 
Bchel's feet. I'll have to let them see each other. If 
he once gets a good look at her and hears her talk and 




356 ME. OLDMIXOB". 

sees lier smile she'll fetch him, as sore as my name's Old* 
mixon. By George I 1 must bring it about some way 
or other." 

The coupe here turned out of the avenue, and after 
going a few blocks stopped in front of the late residence 
of Mr. Henschel and his daughter. Externally it looked 
just as it did when Mr. Oldmixon last saw it, for he did 
not raise his eyes sufficiently to observe that the sign was 
changed. He entered the front door and encountered 
Peter, who was engaged at the desk behind the counter 
making up his accounts for the week, and looking not 
very cheerful over the array of figures. 

" I would like a few minutes' conversation with Misa 
Henschel, please," said Mr. Oldmixon, putting on liiB 
most seductive expression and assuming his most dulcet 
tones. 

" Well," rejoined Peter somewhat sulkily — ^for the 
information given by the figures was still working on 
him — '' you'll have to want at present, I guess." 

'' What do you mean ?" inquired Mr. Oldmixon, less 
suavely. 

'* I mean that, as Miss Henschel isn't here, it stands in 
reason that you can't talk with her now." 

'' Not here !" 

'^ No ; she's left here, she and her father, and devilish 
sorry I am too. " 

" Well, my friend, I'm sorry also ; and as ' misery loves 
company,' suppose we sympathize with each other, and 
that you put me on equal terms with yourself by telling 
me all you know about her disappearance. Why she 
went, where she went, when she went." 

This speech put Peter into a better humor, and ho 
proceeded, with much verbiage and circumlocution, to 



^^HEB HEABT BJlNK WITHIN HEE.'' 357 

put Mr. Oldraixon in possessioD of all the facts connected 
with the transfer of the business and the change of resi- 
dence of the Henschels that were within his knowledge, 
ending with the statement that since they had retired 
from the establishment the orders for work had fallen off 
to such an extent as to make him seriously apprehensive 
for the future. 

Mr. Oldmixon was surprised to hear of the departure 
of his friends, but the place to which they had gone was 
not so far distant as to render it difficult to reach them. 

^* Miss HenschePs in town every day," resumed Peter ; 
*^ she's taking lessons in sculpture from Mr. Maurice. 
It's easy enough to find her, however. You can get ont 
either at New Rochelle or at Mamaroneck. The first's 
a little nearer to their house, but the other's more con- 
venient for some reason or other. I'd like to go up my- 
self some day, to see if I can't get them interested in the 
business again." 

" I don't think you'll succeed. She's got too much 
talent for taxidermy, and ere long will astonish the world 
with her work as a sculptor. " 

" Yes, that's so, I beh'eve," said Peter, with emphasis. 
'^ But," he added, bending over toward Mr. Oldmixon 
and speaking with all the earnestness of which he was 
capable, *' do you know what's going on ?" 

^' I haven't the sh'ghtest idea." 

" Well, there's a firm here in the same business, by the 
name of * Thomas Bangs & Company, ' composed of father 
and daughter ; and the girl has been going round claiming 
that she did some of the best work that Miss Henschel 
did. Of course she lies about it ; but exposing liars is 
hard work unless you turn your whole attention to it." 

" What's that ? You don't mean to say that this 



358 MB. OLDMIXON. 

Bangs girl asserts that she monnted certain specimens 
that were in reality monnted by Miss Henschel ?" 

" Yes, I do. That's exactly what I mean to say. Tou 
recollect that canary bird that Miss Henschel monnted 
for you ?" 

"Certainly I do. 1 am not likely to forget it, I 
think." 

" Well^ she has circulated a story that she monnted it, 
and she's got a good deal of work through the falsehood 
too." 

" You don't tell me so ! Where does she live ? 1*11 
go straight there and denounce her. The horrid huzzy 1 
How dare she attempt to filch the reputation of the most 
accomplished taxidermist that ever lived 1" 

" She lives not far from here, in Lake Street ; but it 
isn't worth your while to go after her, for she's a perfect 
termagant, and would just as soon attack yon with a 
broomstick or throw a pail of dirty water on yon as not 
No, sir ; let her alone. Of course she can't play that 
game long without being found out." 

Mr. Oldmixon looked at his faultless coat, trousers, and 
waistcoat, and arrived at the conclusion that it would 
not be expedient to expose them to the danger of being 
ruined by the viragoish Miss Bangs. He declared, how- 
ever, that he would have a lot of notices printed inform- 
ing the public that his bird was mounted by Miss Hen- 
schel, and would hire a boy to stand on the pavement in 
front of the Bangs establishment and distribute them to 
the passers-by. This idea struck him as a particularly 
brilliant one ; and after chuckling over it with great 
delight, quoting several proverbs and other wise sayings 
that reflected upon the wickedness of stealing a person's 
reputation, he made a note of the railway stations nearest 



"her heart sank within her." 359 

to the Henschels' residence, and then took his de- 
parture. 

On the pavement, before getting into his carriage, he 
looked at his watch. It was twenty minutes of five 
o'clock. Doubtless Barbara had left Mr. Maurice's 
studio and had gone home. How would it do for him 
to go to New Rochelle that evening ? He stood for a 
moment, apparently undecided what to do. Then, telling 
his coachman to drive rapidly to the Grand Central Kail- 
way station, he entered the carriage, and pulling down 
the blinds, gave himself up to the thoughts that the oc- 
casion suggested. 

In the first place, he was determined that if possible he 
would see Barbara that night and tell her of the plans 
for her enrichment and marriage that he had formed. 
He would also inform her of his suspicions against his 
nephew Hogarth, and of the scheme for rendering him 
insane that was then being carried out in apparently the 
most successful manner. And, above all, he desired to 
ask her advice in regard to another matter that he had 
in contemplation. He had the utmost confidence in Bar- 
bara's good sense and independence of character. She 
bad aided him materially in his other difficulties, and he 
resolved, as he lay back in his carriage, his mind undis- 
turbed by the crowds on the streets or by the scenes 
constantly to be witnessed in the thoroughfares of a large 
city, that he would implicitly follow her advice in all the 
affairs that he intended to submit to her judgment. 

Arriving at the Grand Central station he ascertained 
that a train would leave at five o'clock, but that he could 
not get back that night unless he was content to stay no 
longer than half an hour at Mr. Henschel's country 
residence. He knew that it was about three miles from 



■{ 



860 HIL OLDMLXON. 

either Kew Hochelle or Mamaroneck, and he was not 
sure that he would find a carriage at either place to take 
him to his destination. Still he resolved to risk it ; so, 
sending word by the coachman that he would not be at 
home to dinner, and finding that he had but three min- 
utes to spare, he bought a ticket for New Hochelle and 
entered the train. 

It was half -past five when he arrived at New Bochelle, 
and quite dark. He saw, however, to his great satisfaction, 
that there were a number of carriages at the station ; but 
upon inquiry he found that the hackman he was about to 
engage knew nothing of the Henschels. As the reader 
is aware, Mr. Henschel and his daughter always made use 
of the Mamaroneck station in going to or from Lasata, 
and this was three miles farther on. However, he at 
last found a man who professed to know where Mr. 
Henschel lived, and who did, after a good deal of bun- 
gling, finally succeed in finding the place. Looking at 
his watch, Mr. Oldmixon found that he would have but 
about half an hour to stay, and then, if he wished to 
catch the last train for the night, he would have to take 
his departure. He was quite sure that this would be 
altogether insufficient for him to say all that he had to 
say to Barbara, but he hoped to be able to continue the 
conversation the following day at Mr. Maurice's studio. 

Telling the man to wait for him, Mr. Oldmixon entered 
the grounds surrounding the house. There were lights 
in several of the rooms, but the curtains were drawn, 
and he could not see in, though he tried his utmost to 
get a glimpse of the interior of the front room on the 
left of the entrance, in which there was a bright light, 
but over the windows of which curtains of some thick 
material hung. Finally he rang the bell. 




"her HEAET SAlfK WITHIN HEE." 361 

In a short time it was answered by a neatly dressed 
housemaid. 

Now, Mr. Oldmixon did not wish to see Mr. Henschel, 
but he judged, very properly of course, that It would be 
more in accordance with the rules of propriety for him 
to ask for that gentleman than to request to see his 
daughter. He did not suppose that Mr. Henschel would 
make any objection to Barbara seeing him in private on 
receiving an intimation that such an interview was 
desired. His age, he thought, was sufficient warrant for 
requesting such a privilege. Still, when he was informed 
that Mr. Henschel had gone to New Haven, and would 
not be back before half- past seven o'clock, he was not at 
all distressed. 

*^ Is Miss Henschel at home ?" he next inquired. 

** Yes, sir ; walk into the parlor. Who shall I say 
called?" 

" Here is my card," he said, opening his pocketbook 
and looking in its compartments for a piece of paste- 
board with his name on it. " No, 1 have no card," he 
continued, as he did not find what he sought. " Tell her, 
please, that Mr. Oldmixon would like to see her." 

At the name the woman started ; but as Mr. Oldmixon 
had turned to go into the parlor he did not observe her 
surprise. The only " Mr. Oldmixon" she knew was 
Jack — a very different looking personage. 

Barbara, who had not long since arrived home, was in 
her own room dressing for dinner when the maid entered 
with the exclamation, '' O Miss Barba'ra ! there's a 
gentleman down-stairs who says he's Mr. Oldmixon." 
' " Mr. Oldmixon !" 

*' Yes ; but he's not our Mr. Oldmixon. He's old 

enough to be his grandfather, I think." 
16 



862 MB. OLDMIXON. 

^^ Oh," said Barbara, with a smile, though at the Bame 
time her heart sank within her, " 1 know who it is ; say 
I'll be down in a few minutes." 

Yes, her heart sank within her, for the idea at once oc- 
curred to her that Mr. Oldmixon had called to remonstrate* 
with her for becoming engaged to his nephew ; perhaps 
even to denounce her for having inveigled the young man 
into her matrimonial net, to the great detriment of his 
worldly prospects. How he had discovered the matter she 
could not imagine, for Jack, who had escorted her to the 
Grand Central station, had told her — almost the last thing 
he had said — ^that he had not yet informed his unde of 
what had taken place between himself and Barbara, but 
that he intended to do so on the following day. In 
some way or other, however, the secret must have reached 
him, and he had come here, possibly to entreat her not to 
interfere with the plans that he had formed for securing 
Jack's happiness, and failing by persuasion to move her, 
to fulminate his wrath not only against her, but against 
his nephew also. 

Believing all this, Barbara saw that the situation was 
going to be a trying one ; and knowing as she did Mr. 
Oldmixon's impetuosity and unreasonableness, she rec- 
ognized the fact that she would require all her strength 
of mind and powers of resistance to withstand his assaults. 
She had plenty of courage, and she was fully resolved 
that nothing he could say should cause her to yield one 
iota unless it was supported by a message from Jack. If 
he desired to be free he should be, so far as she could 
give him freedom. That alternative was, however, one 
that did not cause her a moment's uneasiness. Not 
much over an hour ago he had given his views on the 
subject of constancy in a manner so emphatic that their 



\ 



*'her heart sank within her." 363 

expression carried conviction to her mind so strongly 
that nothing that the nncle conld say would shake her 
confidence in her lover. 

She looked very lovely as she went down the broad 
old oak staircase to the room below. She wore her hair 
as usual, very simply arranged, and her dark brown cash- 
mere frock, trimmed with knots of dark blue ribbon, 
became her wondrously well — fitting her as it did to 
perfection, and setting oflE her tall, lithe, and well-devel- 
oped figure as scarcely any other color or material could 
have set it oflE. 

She nerved herself for a long and a severe contest as 
she turned the knob of the door, and then she stood 
before Mr. Oldmixon. 

The old gentleman had evidently been on the watch 
for her, for he was standing in the middle of the room, 
facing the door. As she entered he advanced as rapidly 
as his not very active legs permitted, and holding out 
his hand, said : 

" My dear Miss Henschel, how delighted I am to see 
you ! First of all, however, tell me that you pardon 
my intrusion on your leisure and privacy. Till I obtain 
your forgiveness I shall not feel that 1 have any right to 
be here. But you are so kind and gracious that I do not 
despair. You are one of those of whom Madame de 
Stael spoke, 

* Whoe'er feels deeply, feels for all who love.' " 

Barbara perceived before Mr. Oldmixon had spoken 
half a dozen words that she had altogether mistaken the 
object of his visit, and that whatever that object might 
be it had no reference to the matter that was nearest her 
heart. Indeed, she discerned, with the penetration that 



364 MB. OLBKIXOK. 

bright women generally possess, that he had come for 
some purpose of his own, and that she was again to be 
called upon to act as adWser. 

"I am very glad to see yon again, Mr. Oldmixon," 
she said ; '* I have often wondered what had become of 
yon, and I should have been still more anxious if — ^if — " 

She was going on to say '^ if Jack had not kept me 
advised about you," when she reflected that the time 
had not yet come for any reference to Jack, so she ended 
her remarks by asking him to sit down. 

'' I have been quite ill, Miss Henschel," continued Mr. 
Oldmixon, after he had made himself comfortable in the 
large arm-chair that Barbara selected for him, and she had 
taken one immediately in front of him, ^^ and I have had 
a good deal to trouble me. My poor Camilla died only 
five days after her marriage. Died, did I say ?" turning 
toward Barbara and speaking in a whisper, though a loud 
one — " she was murdered !'' 

*' Oh, Mr. Oldmixon, are you sure of that?" said 
Barbara, who, as the reader knows, had been told by Jack 
of all Mr. Oldmixon' 8 suspicions and of their verifica- 
tion. It was about the only thing she could say without 
betraying her knowledge. 

" Absolutely certain," replied Mr. Oldmixon, with all 
theimpressiveness he could muster. *' It was 

* Murder most foal, as in the best it is, 
But this most foul, strange, and nnnatnral.' 

Fortunately, I know who is the criminal, and it is of 
him and his punishment that I come to speak to you — 
among other things — to-night. 

' Murder, though it have no tongue, will speak 
With most miraculous organ ! ' ** 



"her heabt sank within hee." 365 

^* Oh, not to me, Mr. Oldmixon !" exclaimed Barbara, 
with something of horror in her voice ; '' surely you can 
advise with others on such a subject to more advantage 
than with me. I am a woman, and should not have such 
matters brought before me. I cannot — " 

" For Heaven's sake, Miss Henschel, hear me !" said 
Mr. Oldmixon, excitedly. " You are the only one, 
man or woman, to whom 1 can go with confidence that 
1 shall get what I ask for — sincerity. I am very un- 
happy. I wish — I wish — that I had never been bom." 

Here Mr. Oldmixon '^ went to pieces," as the saying 
is, and wept and sobbed with a violence that alarmed 
Barbara. What was she to do ? She knew the whole 
story as well as he knew it, and to have him go through 
all the harrowing details was more, she thought, than she 
could bear. But here she was in the presence of this 
sobbing, sorrowing old man, who had come for the pur- 
pose of pouring all his woes into her ear, and he was the 
uncle of the man she loved, and who loved her ! Bar- 
bara was a woman of decision when circumstances 
required promptness of mental action. She never lost 
her presence of mind in the face of danger nor the 
ability to reason with clearness in situations characterized 
by great emotional disturbance. It was at such times, 
too, that the frankness and truth of her disposition came 
out with most distinctness. She was not one to evade 
an issue or to cover it up with a mass of verbiage mean- 
ing nothing ; but she met it without reserve, candidly, 
and with such artlessness that all interested perceived 
that she was abandoning herself to the dictates of her 
own unsophisticated nature. 

Her mind was a comprehensive one, and took in at 
one view all the points of the matter before her. This 



366 HR. OLDKIXOK. 

old man, now convnlsed with excess of emotion, was 
Jack^s uncle. He was seventy-five years of age. He 
was entitled to be treated kindly and without hypocrisy 
or deceit, even of that passive kind that is manifested by 
silence. Surely she could be ingenuous and outspoken 
with him, obeying the dictates of her heart whithersoever 
they might lead her ! 



CHAPTEE XXV. 



"stop, if you love me ! 



)) 



" I KNOW all about it," she said, gently, and with that 
sweet inflection in her voice which, more than mere 
words, expresses sympathy and sincerity. " What do 
yon wish me to do ?" 

'* Yon know all about it !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, 
dropping his hands from before his face and looking at 
her with the utmost astonishment depicted on his coun- 
tenance. 

" Yes," softly and with downcast eyes. 

" What do you know ? Who told you anything ?" 

" 1 know of your vision or dream, or whatever else 
it was that you had at Saratoga ; 1 know how com- 
pletely it has been verified, and — and — " still more softly 
and sweetly, " Jack — I mean Mr. John Oldmixon told 



me." 



" Jack I my nephew. Jack Oldmixon 1 You don't 
mean to say that you know him V ' 

"Yes, 1 know him." 

" You know him !" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, rising 
to his feet and approaching her. " Are you going to 
tell me that, O Barbara I" laying his hand on her head. 
" Is it possible that you — ^that you are the woman that 
Jack loves, and that I've been such a damned old fool as 
not to see it 1" 

She raised her eyes to his ere he had finished speaking. 



#». 



\ 



868 MB. OLDHIXON. 

and the smile that had before made Mr. Oldmixon her 
slave was again on her face. 

" Yes," she said, " I— I think I'm the one." 

*^ Excuse me for swearing before a lady. I don't 
think I ever did snch a thing before, and yon are the 
one that 1 respect and — and love more than any other 
that I ever saw ; bnt I was bo overwhelmed with joy at 
hearing of the consummation of my dearest hopes, that 
the oath slipped out before I knew it. My dear, dear 
child, I am, next to Jack, the happiest man in the 
world. How did it happen? Tell me all about it." 
He started off ^to pace the floor at his fastest gait, and 
had crossed it several times before Barbara began to 
answer him. 

" I don't think Jack could help it," she said — and 
now the reaction set in, after the way with nice women, 
and tears filled her eyes — "and I know I couldn't; 
for 1 tried my best not — not to love him." 

" You're a dear, sweet girl 1 I never did such an act 
of self-denial in my life as when I selected you for Jack. 
It went hard with me, but I did it, and, my dear, before 
God, 1 believe he's a good man, and that he will make 
you happy. If I had been forty years or even twenty 
younger, I would have seen him in the lowest section 
of purgatory, or even of a still more uncomfortable 
place, before I would have given you up. " 

" It was very funny," said Barbara, who had during 
this speech recovered the sunniness of her disposition, 
" that you and Jack should have so misunderstood each 
other, when one word from either would have made every- 
thing clear. To think," she added, with a happy smile 
that lit up her face with a radiance that would have 
captivated a much less impressionable man than was 



"stop, if yoit love me!" 369 

Mr. Oldmixon — *^to think that you should both have 
meant me, and that each one should have thought the 
other meant some one else 1" 

" Yes, it was very remarkable ; and yet, when I come 
to think of it, not so very odd, after all. Men are such 
stupendous asses 1 They so rarely confide in each other ; 
and then young men are still more aainine. The 
chances are a thousand to one that if I had told Jack 
that I had discovered an angel that 1 wanted him to 
marry, and that her name was Barbara Henschel, he 
would have turned up his nose and have said, * No, 
thank you, I prefer Miss Bangs.' " 

Barbara laughed merrily at this. '' Wliere did you 
ever hear of Miss Bangs?" she said. "She was my 
rival in taxidermy." 

" Yes, 1 know ; that is why I happened to hear of 
her ; she is claiming to have done some of your best 
work, and is, as the present proprietor of your late 
business told me, injuring his establishment by her 
Hes." 

"Oh, well," answered Barbara, "such conduct can 
be only temporarily successful ; but what a despicable 
creature 1'^ 

" Yes, yes," said Mr. Oldmixon, absently, as though 
his thoughts were on something else. "It is very 
strange, very strange," he continued, as if speaking to 
himself ; then he drew a long breath and looked around 
the room with a puzzled and somewhat wild expression 
on his countenance. 

For a moment Barbara was alarmed. The light from 
the lamp on the table fell upon his face, and she saw the 
change that had come over it. Then when Mr. Old- 
mixon the next instant took the little vial of nitrite of 
16* 



V 



370 MB. OLDMIXON. 

am jl from his waistcoat pocket and held it to his nostrils, 
she felt reassured, for she had seen him before in similar 
attacks, and the inhalation of the medicine had always 
appeared to give him relief. 

" You are not ill, I hope, Mr. Oldmixon," she said, as 
she rose and stood bj his side. ^' Can I do anything 
for you ? Will you have a glass of wine V^ 

" No, no ; it is nothing, I assure you, but I have just 
had another most remarkable experience. There's been 
no one else in this room since we came in ?" 

" No, no one." 

" Not Miss Bangs ?" 

''No, certainly not Miss Bangs." 

" Well, while you were speaking just now of Miss 
Bangs's conduct, 1 thought I saw her talking to my man 
Thomas. They did not appear to me to be in this room, 
although I asked the question in regard to her, for I 
thought that if she had been here the fact would con- 
stitute a basis for what I imagined I saw. She and the 
man seemed to me to be talking together in a shop, 
not unlike the one you had. There was a counter at one 
side of it and cases around the walls containing mounted 
specimens of animals." 

" That is a description of their shop." 

'' Yes, so I suppose. The girl was stoutly built, had 
black eyes and hair, and was greatly over-dressed. 
Around her neck she wore a heavy gold or yellow metal 
chain, and she had large earrings of similar metal in her 
ears." 

''As well as I recollect, that describes Miss Bangs. 
But I have only seen her once, and that was over a year 
ago. You probably have had a short dream." 

"No, it was not a dream ; it was just like my ex- 



"stop, if you love me!'' 371 

perience at Saratoga, thongli shorter and less vivid. I 
saw the two distinctly, but, as on the other occasion, I 
could not hear a word. Do yon believe in the possibility 
of my sitting here and seeing what is going on in Lake 
Street, in New York?" 

" No ; I do not believe in what are called supernatural 
occurrences ; and for you in this house to see what is 
going on in New York would be supernatural." 

" Yes, judging from the standpoint of the little that 
we know of nature's laws. But there may be natural 
events which occur so seldom and only to certain per- 
sons that we regard them as supernatural simply out of 
our ignorance. If I did not really see Miss Bangs and 
my man Thomas talking together, how could I have 
described the place and the lady so accurately? For 
to my knowledge I have never seen her or her 
shop." 

*^ 1 do not know, but it is possible that you have been 
in the shop, and that you have seen Miss Bangs, and 
that talking of her to-day with Peter and then again 
with me, and perhaps having some ideas of her running 
through your head, you had the hallucination of seeing 
her. This house was supposed by the whole neighbor- 
hood to be haunted, and the most wonderful and 
apparently direct stories were told of the ghostly inhab- 
itants ; but we have never seen or heard anything of 
them. Dr. Maddox helped us to get rid of them by 
showing us how to improve the drainage." 

*^ Then you don't believe in what the Scotch call 
' second-sight ' ?" 

" I am not sure that I know what it is," answered 
Barbara, laughing ; ^^ but if it means sitting in this room 
and seeing a man and a woman talking together in Lake 



873 KR. OLDicnroN. 

Street, in New York, nearly twenty miles from here, I 
certainly do not believe in it. " 

*' Well, well, I was hoping that yon believed in it, for 
it appears to my mind the only explanation of my vision 
at Saratoga, all the particnlars of which were confirmed 
by my visit to Annapolis. Except one," he added, 
after a moment's panse, ^^ and that will be verified, I 
think, within twenty-fonr honrs." 

" Dr. Maddox wonld probably be able to explain it 
to yon. He has given great attention to snch subjects. 
It takes very little in some people to canse hallucina- 
tions." 

^^ Yes, but this was not a hallncination, for it was 
verified. Hallucinations are false. This was real." 

" I do not know enough of the subject to be able to 
talk about it, but I can conceive of a train of thought 
originating in your mind and giving a corresponding 
character to the hallucination. "Were you never in An- 
napolis ?" 

" 1 thought until a day or two past that I never had 
been there, but I have discovered that I was in the place 
about thirty years ago. I found a note addressed to me 
there by a lady whom I knew ; and then the fact of my 
having stopped at the very hotel at which my Camilla 
was murdei*ed came to my mind. I'm quite sure, too, 
that I occupied the very room that she did.' ' 

'^ And you knew when you were sitting on the lawn 
at Saratoga that your nephew and his wife had gone to 
Annapolis ?" 

" Yes, I knew that they were probably there at that 
moment, but all my knowledge cannot account for my 
seeing him kill her.' ' 

" No ; but that has not yet been verified. You do not 



"stop, IP YOtr LOVE MEl" 373 

know that he did. 1 wish," she added, " that you could 
get the idea out of your mind. Think what an awful 
thing it will be for you to discover I Is it not better 
to remain in ignorance or. doubt, rather than to confirm 
your suspicions against a man who is your nephew and 
— ^and Jack's brother ?" 

Now, Mr. Oldmixon had come to see Barbara with 
the intention of discussing this very point with her, and 
more than half inclined to yield to the suggestions or 
entreaties that he felt sure she would address to him. 
But, like Pharaoh, his heart had been hardened, and the 
process of induration had been brought about by the real 
or imaginary sight of Thomas and Miss Bangs convers- 
ing together, in the reality of which he fully believed. 
He was just as sure that, on his return home, he would 
extract the truth from his man as he was of his existence. 
Furthermore, although he had had no supernatural 
evidence of the circumstance, he was confident that 
Hogarth and his man were in collusion, and that the 
former had, under the idea that Miss Bangs was the 
woman to whom his uncle had devised his estate, con- 
ceived a purpose of marrying her. This latter notion 
had entered his mind while he was in the shop convers- 
ing with Peter. At first he had rejected it, but it had 
forced itself, or been forced so strongly upon him, that 
he had at last accepted it as true, and all the way out 
to New Rochelle he had been thinking it over as an 
event that would not be at all displeasing to him. He 
chuckled to himself at the thought that both his nephew 
and Miss Bangs would be punished by such an act, and 
he determined that, so far from doing anything to pre- 
vent it, he would facilitate its consummation by every 
means in his power. There was only one thing that was 



374 MB. OLDMIXOK. 

likely to stand in the way, and that was the fact that in 
all probability matters with Hogarth would be brought 
to a crisis long before a marriage between him and Miss 
Bangs could take place. 

No, he would not relax in the severity of his method 
with his murderous nephew ; not even Barbara's efforts 
to induce him to be merciful should be successful. He 
would go on till the wretch confessed, and then the fur- 
ther consequences might be what they might be ; he 
would not regret them. 

It did not take a tenth part of the time to determine 
what answer to give Barbara as it has taken me to write 
the account of the mental process by which his conclu- 
sion was reached. He rose from the chair as he spoke, 
and looked at his watch. 

'' Good Heavens !" he exclaimed, " I have been here 
nearly half an hour, and have barely time to catch the 
train. Barbara, my dear — I may surely call you Bar- 
bara, now that you are going to marry my dear boy — 1 
shall see Jack to-morrow, and tell him how nicely we 
have been brought to an understanding. As to the 
other matter, if Hogarth is innocent his innocence will 
appear ; if he is guilty, he will deserve all he can receive 
in this world or in the next. Good-by ; God bless you, 
my dear." He held her hand in his, and drawing her 
toward him, kissed her forehead. Then he turned away, 
and was going to leave the room when a thought 
occurred to him that caused him to retrace his steps. 
He came closer to her and spoke almost in a whisper, 
though with great energy and distinctness. 

'* That's a bad woman," he said, '' that Bangs girl. 
Hogarth has got an inkling of the contents of my will, 
but he has made a mistake in the woman. He thinks 1 



<< 



STOP, IP YOTT LOVE ME !" 375 



have made her the heiress of my estate, and he intends 
to marry her if he can." 

" But how do yon know all this ?" 

'^ I don't know. It all seems to come to me as a kind 
of inspiration that I cannot explain, and, after all, it may 
be only a guess. I shall find out the truth as soon as I 
get home ; for Thomas is a great coward, and I shall 
miake him tell me everything he knows." 

" Oh, yes !" exclaimed Barbara. " Find it out, and 
then save her from such a marriage if there is any dan- 
ger of it." 

Mr. Oldmixon looked at her very sharply for a moment 
before he spoke. 

" That's a very creditable notion of yours, my dear," 
he said at last. '' All women should be mercifal, espe- 
cially to their own sex. But this girl is a mean, con- 
temptible, dishonest, unscrupulous, and degraded person, 
who is altogether unworthy of your consideration. She 
has been stealing your reputation and lying like a Turk 
to advance herself at your expense. She's entitled to 
no mercy, and, by Heaven ! she shall not have any. She 
shall marry Hogarth. I'm going to do all in my power 
to help the match along. No, no !" as Barbara attempted 
to speak, " she shall have her reward. Good-by ! 
Another minute and I'll miss that train. I'll be up 
again in a few days ;" and he was gone without giving 
her the opportunity of saying a word. 

Barbara stood for a moment undecided what to do. 
Then she ran down to the door and called after Mr. 
Oldmixon, but the carriage was driving rapidly away 
from the house, and he probably did not hear her voice. 
Doubtless he would not have returned even if he had 
heard her. More than ever before did she recognize the 



376 MR. OLDKIXOK. 

fact that liis mind, if not positively deranged, was 
certainly a very different one from any other with which 
she was acquainted. His likes and his hates were equally 
powerful ; he was as unscrupulous in his way as he 
thought Miss Bangs to be, or even his nephew Hogarth. 
In the accomplishment of his ideas of revenge or punish- 
ment he stopped at nothing. He was, she thought, a bad 
man. She did not want his money, and she resolved 
that if, by any chance, it came to her direct — and she 
could not get it unless Jack were unfaithful to her, and 
that was an impossibility — she would give it away to 
some charitable institution where it would serve in 
some measure as an atonement for the sins of its former 
possessor. As it was, she resolved that she would beg 
Jack to refuse to be his uncle's heir tmless he at once 
renounced all his schemes against Hogarth and Miss 
Bangs. And furthermore she determined that she 
would see that young woman in the morning and put 
her on her guard against Hogarth. She had never made 
Miss Bangs's acquaintance, and from what she had heard 
of her, did not wish to do so. But she reasooed, if Miss 
Bangs was the quintessence of vulgarity, and if she had 
been mean enough to claim as her own, work that she 
had not done, it was no reason that she should be in- 
veigled into a marriage with a man whom everybody 
united in regarding as thoroughly wicked and disrepu- 
table. Miss Bangs's offence had been committed against 
her, and it was for her to resent it, and not Mr. Old- 
mixon, who, she perceived, was more anxious to spring 
a trap on his nephew than to further the end^ of justice. 
She thought she saw, too, that Mr. Oldmixon in all 
things was morbidly anxious that his plans should 
succeed, and that this was the chief, if not the only 



^ 



*^STOP, IF YOU LOVE ME !" 877 

motive that prompted him to favor her marriage with 
Jack. He had seen her, had taken a fancy to her, and 
had then, without consulting her, set about to arrange 
for her marriage with a man she had never seen. The 
more she thought of this matter, the more indignant she 
felt at the liberty he had taken. True, events had 
moved in accordance with his wishes, but, she thanked 
God, entirely independently of any agency of his. 
When she had discovered that she was the woman that 
he wished Jack to marry she felt glad, especially for her 
lover's sake, that a possibly disturbing factor had been 
taken out of their path. She had perceived rather the 
ludicrous side of the situation to the exclusion of other 
and more important points. Now, however, reflection 
was coming to her aid ; and as she walked up and down 
the long parlor, and bent her mind to the consideration 
of the issues before her, she felt annoyed with herself 
that she had not seen more deeply into the subject at 
first, and given Mr. Oldmixon some knowledge of the dis- 
pleasure she felt at the liberty he had taken in attempt- 
ing to dispose of her in marriage without her consent. 

But Barbara was not one of those persons that see 
only one side of a question. She believed that Mr. 
Oldmixon really liked her. Whatever might be his 
reasons, the fact was undoubted. She felt kindly toward 
him for this. It was her nature to try to like those that 
liked her. Besides, he was Jack's uncle, and as such 
entitled to her prepossessions and to all the respect that 
she could conscientiously give. 

And one point had more influence with her than any 
other. The more she saw of Mr. Oldmixon, the more 
she was convinced that he was not entirely responsible 
for his actions. She believed that he could control 



378 MR. OLDMIXON. 

them within certain limits, but that after a time the 
impulse to persevere became overpowering ; his ideas 
were then to him imperative conceptions that he could 
not resist, and which carried him along in spite of the 
efforts he might make to break from them. From this 
point of view he was more to be pitied than blamed, but 
she did not lose sight of the fact that there was a time 
when he might have controlled them, and when he wil- 
fully allowed his evil impulses to govern him. 

As to his pretended visions or second-sights, or what- 
ever else he choose to call them, she did not believe in 
them at all. She perceived that there was a certain 
basis of reality about them that was clearly the result of 
vivid recollections that had faded from his mind. She 
saw, too, that he was full of suspicions against those 
persons he disliked, and especially against his nephew 
Hogarth, whom he evidently thought was capable of any 
atrocity that could be conceived by the mind of man. 
Endowed with high imaginative powers, he had engrafted 
on his recollection of localities, such as that of the hotel 
at Annapolis and Miss Bangs's shop, some one of the 
many fancies that were continually forming in his brain, 
and had adopted it as truth. '^ Perhaps," she thought, 
^' it may be that his intuitions — as 1 have heard tiiey 
sometimes are in insane persons — are wonderfully acute. 
1 do not know that they could be so penetrating and 
exact as to indicate to him not only the fact that his, 
nephew Hogarth murdered his wife, but also the way 
in which he did tlie deed and all the steps of the 
procedure ; but it may be possible. I cannot tell. If 
it should turn out that he is right, it will be very wonder- 
ful ; but till I know that his nephew is a murderer I 
shall try to keep my judgment in reserve. Thus far 



"stop, if YOXr LOVE ME !" 379 

nothing has been established by either of his visions that 
might not have been based upon actual knowledge. Yes, 
there is one thing : it was a clear day at Saratoga, and 
he saw it raining at Annapolis at the time of Mrs. 
Oldmixon's death, and it was raining. But this," she 
added, after thinking for a moment, " may have been a 
coincidence. It would be very horrible if he should 
drive Hogarth to confess ; and oh !" she went on, clasp- 
ing her hands together in her excitement, " how infinite- 
ly more horrible it would be if he should, by his per- 
sistence, make an innocent man insane, and drive him to 
the confession of a crime he never committed !" 

Once this idea had foun J a lodgment in her mind she 
experienced an impossibility of getting rid of it. She 
was sure that she had arrived at the correct view of the 
result of the mental tortures that Mr. Oldmixon was 
inflicting upon his nephew, but she did not see her way 
clear to helping the sufferer. She had every reason for 
believing that he was a bad man. Enough was known 
of him from evidence that was indisputable to satisfy her 
on this point ; but notwithstanding this fact she felt that 
her sympathies were strongly exercised in his favor, and 
that it was her bounden duty to do what she could to 
save him from the fate that was impending over him. 
Of course she thought of interesting Jack in some 
scheme that they might both agree upon and that 
would be calculated to circumvent his uncle's machina- 
tions. And, above all, she must warn Miss Bangs of the 
plot against her. 

Mr. Henschel came home ' in time for a late dinner, 
and then Barbara, who had no secrets from her father, 
told him of Mr. Oldmixon's visit, of the nature of her 
conversation with him, and of the fears that she enter- 



380 MB. OLDMIXOK. 

tained. Mr. Henschel was, in his way, as straightfor- 
ward as his daughter was in hers, and his advice was 
that she should write a letter to Mr. Oldmixon, in which 
she should unburden her mind of what was on it, and 
appeal to him to allow Hogarth to rest in peace. She 
wrote the letter that night. It was long, and covered 
every part of the matter with that thoroughness that 
only those who know what they want to say and know 
how to say it are able to exhibit. Among other points 
that she brought forward was one that related to the 
policy of Mr. Oldmixon's course. " What advantage," 
she wrote, " can it be to a family to let the world know 
that it has a murderer among its members, and to incur 
the odium that attache^ to a public trial and a shameful 
death on the gallows ? You may talk to me of the virtue 
of a Brutus who coidd condemn his own son to death; 
but, then, Brutus was a judge charged under his oath 
with the administration of the law. Even in his case I 
think he would better have shown his humanity by 
resigning his office and leaving to some other less in- 
terested magistrate the awful duty that he took upon 
himself. But you have no excuse for your conduct. 
You do not know that your nephew is guilty, but you 
have started out for the purpose of proving him so by 
his own confession, or at least of making him confess, 
no matter whether he be guilty or not guilty. It will 
not be diflScult for you to succeed in this, for I have read 
that, many years ago, the reiterated accusation of being 
a witch or a sorcerer was suflBcient to wring confession 
from innocent women and Inen, even though they knew 
that the stake and the fagot were waiting for them. If 
physical torture will force an innocent person to confess, 
how much more will mental torture bring a like residt? 



"stop, if YOtr LOVE ME I" 881 

" 1 thought once that I should like you. You are the 
uncle of the man 1 love better than 1 love any other 
person in all the world, and as such you are entitled to- 
my aflEectionate regard. You are possessed of many 
engaging qualities ; you have exhibited toward me a 
degree of kindness for which I am grateful, and 1 am 
anxious to stand well with you. You have several times 
spoken of my influence with you and of the pleasure it 
gave you to do anything that would aid in securing my 
happiness. This is the first time I have appealed to you, 
and I do it now, not only because of the object I have 
in view, but because you have, by your goodness to me, 
allowed me to think that I should not have to ask in 
vain. Therefore I beg of you, by whatever considera- 
tion you may have for the honor of your family, by 
whatever regard for the principles of justice, by what- 
ever affection for me, to stop all further efforts to fix the 
crime of murder on your nephew. If he is guilty, God 
will in His own due time search him with a thorough- 
ness compared to which your attempts to reach the truth 
are vain and blind and shallow. Besides, has He not said, 
^ Vengeance is mine, I will repay ' ? 

^' In my own humble way I have written. I cannot 
plead eloquently with you, for I am not skilled in niceties 
of speech, and perhaps in much that I have said I 
have shown a lack of that tact that goes for so much 
with those that are suppliants. But I have at least writ- 
ten honestly, and with a desire to have you do what I 
conceive to be right. May He who is all goodness and 
mercy incline your heart to that charity ' that thinketh 
no evil.' 

" Your sincere friend, 

" Babbaba Henschel." 



382 MB. OLDMIXON. 

She left her letter bo that it would be taken to the post- 
office the first thing in the morning, and then went to 
bed content with what she had done thus far, but resolved 
to bring all the batteries to bear on Mr. Oldmixon that 
she could place in position in • order to make him 
renounce his scheme for extorting confession from his 
nephew Hogarth. 



CHAPTER XXVL 

" MY GOD I WHICH SHALL IT BE ?" 

Mb. Oldmixon, immediately on his return to his resi- 
dence, went to the library and rang the bell for his man 
Thomas. He had stopped at the Lucullus Club and 
taken his dinner, so that it was nearly ten o'clock when, 
in answer to his summons, Thomas entered the room. 
Mr. Oldmixon was seated at his table engaged in turning 
over the leaves of the manuscript of his novel, to which 
he was apparently giving the deepest attention. The 
man had been standing for several minutes waiting for 
his presence to be recognized, but Mr. Oldmixon seemed 
to have no thought* for anything but the matter before 
him, for he went on making interlineations and erasures, 
as though entirely oblivious of the fact that he had rung 
for the man. At last, having — possibly by some intui- 
tion—become aware of the fact that the man was in the 
room — ^for he had not looked toward him — or else satis- 
fied with the part of indifference he had been acting, 
without raising his eyes from the papers before him or 
ceasing his work he said : 

"Thomas!'' 

"Yes, sir." 

" How long have you been in my service ?" 

"Eleven years, sir, next Christmas. You know, sir, 
1 came on Christmas, because you wanted two men 
for that day, and you were so much pleased with me 




384 MB. OLDMIXON. 

that you sent the other man away and gave me the 
place." 

^^ Oh, yes, so 1 did 1 Well, Thomas, 1 am very much 
afraid that on that occasion I made a big fool of myself, 
and that instead of your being a good, honest, and faith- 
ful fellow, you're the damnedest scoundrel that lives 
outside of the penitentiary. '* 

^^Sir!" 

^' Yes, Thomas," continued Mr. Oldmixon, with the 
most indifferent manner imaginable, and still going on 
with his work, never having yet even so much as looked 
at the man, ^^ I am forced to the conclusion that, as 
you are such a devilish traitor and villain, it will be con- 
ducive to the cause of morality, as I know it will be to 
my interests, that you should within the next half hour 
take your horrid person ofiE my premises. You wiH find 
a month's wages there on the comer of the mantel- 
piece. Go, and never let me lay eyes on you again." 

^' But," stammered the astounded Thomas, " what 
have 1 done, sir ?" And then bursting into tears, " It's 
too bad that, after I've done my duty for eleven years, I 
should be abused in this way and dismissed without being 
told what for !" 

" Oh," exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, rising from his 
chair and approaching the man till he stood at the dis« 
tance of a couple of feet from him, while he fixed his 
eyes on him as though he would, if he could, pierce him 
through and through — " oh, you're in an inquiring 
frame of mind to-night, are you ? Well, you shall be 
gratified. You went to see a woman named Bangs this 
evening— a bird-stuffer in Lake Street I" 

'' Yes, sir ; I—" 

'' That will do. Who sent you ?'• 



(C 



MY god! which shall it be?" 385 



" I went, sir — " 

" Who sent you ?" thundered Mr. Oldmixon. 

"Mr. Hogarth, sir," answered the man, thoroughly 
terrified at the violence exhibited by his master. 

" What for V 

'^ Oh, sir, I only went to see if she was the young 
woman that brought an animal here that she had stuffed 
for Mr. Jack ! She thought this was where he lived." 

" Then she has been in this house ?" 

'^ Yes, sir, and she saw the bird that you had mounted, 
and she said she had done it." 

" She said she had stuffed that bird !" shrieked Mr. 
Oldmixon. " Oh, the liar — the horrid liar !" And he 
raised his hands as though completely dumbfounded at 
the enormity of the offence. 

(As we know that Mr. Oldmixon was already aware 
of this claim of Miss Bangs, it is safe to assume that the 
emotion exhibited was not so sincere as it appeared to 
be.) 

"Yes, sir," continued the wily Thomas, relieved to 
find Mr. Oldmixon's anger diverted from himself, 
"she said she had done it, and she told me the same 
thing to-night." 

" And you came home and told it to }iir. Hogarth, I 
suppose, and that was what you went to find out, eh V ' 

" Yes, sir ; I didn't think there was any harm in it. 
Mr. Hogarth wanted to know if she was the one that 
came here." 

"Now, sir, what did Mr. Hogarth tell you was his 

object?" restmied Mr. Oldmixon, satisfied now that, 

having sufficiently terrified the man, he should get the 

truth. 

" He said, sir, that he had a little joke to play off on 
17 



K ■ 




386 MB. OLDMIXON. 

you, sir. That was all, and I didn't suppose there was 
anything wrong." 

''How much did he give you for being a traitor to 
your employer ?" 

'' Sir, 1—" 

'' How much did he give you ?" repeated Mr. Old- 
mixon, in a louder and more severe voice. 

" Twenty dollars, sir." 

'' And how much more are you to get ?" 

'' A hundred dollars, sir." 

" Ah !" said Mr. Oldmixon, resuming his seat and 
going on with his work, satisfied that he had gotten all 
the information to be obtained from the man ; " you 
may remain in my service on one condition, and that is, 
that you say nothing of all this to Mr. Hogarth, that 
you tell mo of everything he says and does in regard to 
this Bangs girl, and that you take this piece of paper to 
him and tell him you found it lying on my desk among 
some other memoranda. If you do these things faith- 
fully 1 will not only keep you in my service, but I will 
give you two hundred dollars, and perhaps — only j}er' 
haps J remember — 1 may mention you in my will." 

'' Thank you, sir," replied Thomas, with the cheerful- 
ness natural to a man who had happily escaped from a 
dangerous position. '' I'll do anything you wish me to 
do, sir. Shall I give him the paper now, sir ?" 

'' No ; wait till to-morrow morning. Then go to him 
very quietly, and when no one is near, and slip this piece 
of paper into his hand, saying that you found it on my 
desk, and that you think it may be of some importance." 
Mr. Oldmixon looked over the paper carefully, and this 
is what he read : 

" Memorandum for Mr. 7?^rf%. —Entire estate, real, 



''my god! which shall it be?" 387 

personal, and mixed, to go to my nephew John Oldmixon, 
provided that before my death or within one year after 
that event he marries Bangs. 

'' In case ho shall, from any cause whatever, fail to 
marry said . Bangs, then the said Bangs to re- 
ceive the entire estate as aforesaid." 

'' Did you find out Miss Bangs' s firet name ?" he said 
to Thomas, while he still continued to look at the paper. 

'* Yes, sir ; it's Lena." 

Mr. Oldmixon took a pen and filled in the blanks. 
*^ Lena Bangs," he said ; '' that's all right now. Now, 
sir," turning to Thomas, ''you may have heard that 
I'm a crank, or not quite sound in my mind, or some- 
thing of the kind. Well, perhaps I'm not quite right 
in the upper story, but I'm just the sort of a man that 
will poison you, or bring you to some other violent and 
sudden death, if you play me false in this affair in the 
slightest particular. 

'' You are to give this paper to Mr. Hogarth, as I 
have told you ; you are to listen to what he says and 
observe his actions, and then you are to come and report 
everything to me. Now go." 

He handed the paper to Thomas, and the man, with a 
low bow, went off, glad to have escaped so easily, and 
wondering how Mr. Oldmixon had obtained the knowl- 
edge of his doings that afternoon. 

The next morning, as Hogarth was leaving his room, 
he saw Thomas standing near the head of the stairs, as 
though waiting for him. 

" 1 got your note," he said, as he joined the man. 
'' You are quite sure she's the woman ?" 

'' Oh, yes, sir ; there's no doubt of that. But I've 
something el8e> sir. Last night, after Mr. Oldmixon 



388 ME. OLDMIXON. 

had gone to bed, I discovered that he had done some- 
thing that 1 never knew him to do before — ^he had 
forgotten to lock his desk. 1 looked through it, and 1 
found this piece of paper, and as I thought it might 
be of importance to you, 1 took it.'' 

As he spoke he handed the sKp to Hogarth. 

The ktter ran his eye over the writing, and at once 
his countenance showed the pleasure that the persnal 
gave him. 

'' This," he exclaimed, " is worth all the rest. Now, 
1 know just what I've got to do. Thomas, I'll reward 
you handsomely for this. Now, take it and put it back 
exactly where you found it. My uncle might miss it, 
and then there would be trouble. I know it by heart, 
and it's of no further use to me." 

Before becoming acquainted with the writing on the 
little slip of paper Hogarth had felt a degree of mental 
discomfort such as he had never before experienced. 
He had passed a wretched night. All through the 
hours that ought to have been passed in sleep he had 
been in that state of semi-unconsciousness during which 
the imagination, little, if at all, controlled by the judg- 
ment, runs riot with the thoughts. Fancies of the most 
horrible description had taken possession of him, and 
several times he had, in his fright, jumped from the 
bed and rushed terror-stricken to a distant part of the 
room in his effort to escape from the phantoms that he 
imagined he saw hovering over him, but which, as they 
disappeared as soon as he was fully awake, he knew 
must be only the fictions of dreams. The moment he 
lay down again they reappeared, and though he tried 
to fight them off by appeals to his reason, they were 
so vivid and the impression they produced was so strong 




''MY GOD ! WHICH SHALL IT BE ?'' 389 

that a long contest was impossible, and, time after time, 
they forced him to accept them as realities. 

But there was one that, amid them all, kept its place. 
Lying or standing, asleep or awake, he saw the face of 
his wife as she had given him that last look ere he had 
hidden it with the pillow and shut ont its gaze from 
earth forever. There was no body, there was not even 
a head ; there was nothing but the face, with its terri- 
fied, despairing, pleading expression — a face that showed 
that its possessor knew that her last moment had come, 
that had perceived the look that was on his face, and was 
reflecting the knowledge that there was no mercy for 
her. 

^^My God!" he exclaimed, after he had passed 
several hours of agony, ''is there no escape for me?" 
He shut his eyes, but the face was still there, immov- 
able, unchanged, without the slightest variation in its 
expression, and looking, for all the world, as though it 
were carved in stone. He covered his own face with 
his hands, with the bedclothes, but hers was still before 
him. 

" I cannot stand this very long," he said, as he arose 
from the bed for perhaps the twentieth time that night. 
'' I shall lose my mind if I am always to be haunted in 
this way. And I had got over it all till that torturer 
began his schemes and brought back ideas that 1 had 
banished, as I thought, forever. I am afraid of him. 
Yes, that is it. His allusions are so significant that he 
must, in some way or other, have discovered something. 
But how ? 

'' My God I he may have heard me talk in my sleep. 
There is no other way. Some night, or perhaps on f 
Beveral nights, he has been in this room, has stood by ' 



f 



390 MR. OLDMIXOK. 

the side of my bed, and heard me tell the w^ole story 
in my dreams. And that is what he invited me here 
for. He had suspicions, and he was determined, if 
possible, to verify them. 

"Well, he has gained his point," he continued, as 
he lit the gas and walked up and down the floor, " bnt 
the battle is not yet over. I may still escape, and there 
are two ways open to me. One involves his life ; the 
other, my own. Either would give me peace. Which 
shall it be ? My God 1 which shall it be ?" 

Unconscious of the hideous sin he had committed in 
asking God to decide for him whether he should per- 
petrate a murder or a suicide, he sat down in front of 
his dressing-table, and in the full blaze of the gaslight 
studied his face. 

'* It looks like the face of a guilty man," he said, with 
a despairing expression of voice. " I would pick it out 
from a thousand as that of a man with a crime on his 
soul and in terror for his life." 

He sat for a long while before the glass, apparently 
thinking deeply of the alternatives that had been pre- 
sented to his mind. Then he unbuttoned the collar of 
his night-gown, and turning his head to one side, looked 
at his neck, and then felt it carefully with the ends of 
his fingers. 

"It is here," he said, in a whisper; "I feel its 
throb." His dressing-case was before him, and opening 
it, he took out a razor, while the fingers of the other 
hand remained on his neck over the carotid artery. 

" It would be the easiest thing in the world to do," he 
said. " A single motion of the hand, and all would be 
over. No pain, no consciousness after the gash is made, 
and a sudden and absolute cessation of all misery. ' ' 



*'my god! which shall it be?" 391 

He laid the edge of the razor on his neck and held it 
there, while he watched it rise and fall with the pulsa- 
tions of the artery beneath it. 

''Why don't I do it?" he said, hoarsely. 'Tm 
not afraid of the future. Hell can't be worse than this 
night, and, after all, there may be no hell. It would 
be leaving a certainty of torment for an uncertainty, and 
that would be a good exchange. A little stronger press- 
ure of the hand, and then oblivion. 

" No," he exclaimed, throwing the razor into a comer 
of the room and springing to his feet, " it were better 
his life than mine. I'll drown my sorrows in another 
crime, just as the drunkard straightens himself up with 
another drink. His face would not trouble me, and 
perhaps it would drive hers away. Yes, his doom is 
sealed. I'll marry the Bangs girl, secretly, before she 
knows that she is his heiress, and then I'll quickly ex- 
tinguish his life, as I did that of — of — the other. It's 
the best way, and, as he has so assiduously endeavored to 
teach me, leaves no signs. Besides, he is known to have 
heart-disease. I'll go to his room at night, as he has 
come to mine. I'll pay him off in his own coin, and 
with compound interest." 

Strange as it may seem, Hogarth felt a degree of 
mental repose after he had arrived at the determination 
to smother his uncle, such as he had not experienced 
before for several days. The phantoms disappeared, and 
even the face became less distinct, until, passing through 
all stages of haziness, it finally disappeared altogether. 
It was now broad daylight, and he had not had ten 
minutes' complete sleep during the whole night. He did 
not care to go back to bed, for his mind was so full of the 
thoughts engendered by the determination to which he 



-'•' ' - • ^- ' ^^-.^ ^^*.^- 



392 3€R. OLDMIXON. 

had come, that lie was sure sleep would be unattainable ; 
BO he went into the dressing-room adjoining, and turn- 
ing on tlic cold water in the bath-tub, got into it and 
stayed tliere long enough to have seriously injured the 
health of weaker or less excited persons, but which, on 
him, had no other effect than to cool his heated skin 
and lessen the force and frequency of a pulse that was 
feverish in its quality. 

Wlien he emerged from the bath, the temperature of 
which was not many degrees above the freezing-point, 
and after he had brought about the proper degree of 
reaction by rubbing himself with coarse towels, he felt 
like a new man, and fully equal to the performance of 
the task that he had assigned to himself. He dressed 
himself, and going out into the haJl on his way to the 
breakfast-room, encountered Thomas, as we have seen, 
and had received intelligence that had still further added 
to his sense of hien aise and strengthened him in his 
resolution to bring matters to a crisis. This piece of 
information was the only thing needed to make him 
absolutely sure that he was on the right track. Evidently 
it had been a memorandum for Mr. Eidley for his guid- 
ance in preparing the draft of the will, and it settled the 
point definitely in favor of Miss Bangs. He therefore 
entered the breakfast-room feeling that he was now 
more than a match for his uncle, and resolved to let 
nothing that might be said to him disturb the equanim- 
ity that he knew was essential to the success of the 
schemes he had in view. 

Mr. Oldmixon was sitting in an arm-chair near the 
window, reading a morning newspaper. On his nephew's 
entrance he threw it aside and greeted him with all the 
fervor of which he was capable. 



"my god! which shall it be J" 393 

" Come in, my dear boy. I'm glad to see yon look- 
ing so well. 'Pon my honor, 1 never saw you look 
better. What do you say to going to the theatre this 
evening ?" 

" I should be delighted," answered Hogarth. " Shall 
I get a box as I go down-town this morning ?" 

'' Yes, suppose you do. By the by, you've got to go 
down to Kidley's office, haven't you, about the will ? 
Don't forget that, whatever you do. You know I may 
go now at any moment, and there's nothing like having 
things in readiness. ^ You can take my coup6, as I'think 
I'll stay at home this morning. Stop at Booth's Theatre 
on your way down, and get a box for to-night. Salvini 
plays Othello" — he glanced furtively at Hogarth as he 
spoke these words — ^' and he does the smothering 
scene with wonderful naturalness. You'll know as much 
about it, my dear boy, after you see him press the pillow 
over Desdemona's face, as though you had done the very 
same thing yourself." 

This was the most direct speech on the subject that 
Mr. Oldmixon had yet made to his nephew, and the 
effect was even more decided than he had anticipated. 
He saw from Hogarth's manner that he had come into 
the room prepared to resist all assaults of the kind and 
resolved to brave it out to the last, and he, in his turn, 
had determined to give him, at the very outset, a blow 
that would probably have some effect in lessening his 
self-confidence. 

At the mention of the play of Othello, Hogarth's face 
had blanched with fear, for he well knew what was 
coming. He had, more than a year before, seen the 
terribly realistic acting of Salvini, and the remembrance 
of it had more than once since his own murderous act 

17* 



394 ME. OLDMIXON. 

been brought to his mind. Before his uncle had finished 
speaking he was trembling like an aspen leaf — all of 
which was duly observed by Mr. Oldmixon — ^and had 
determined that nothing should make him see the great 
actor again in that part. As the last words fell upon his 
ears the pallor of his countenance approached that of 
death ; he rose to his feet, and then, with a low, inarticu- 
late cry, he dropped upon the floor, as though he had 
been shot, and lay there, his face changed to a livid hne 
and frightfully distorted, his limbs jerking spasmodically, 
as though moved by a powerful galvanic battery, and his 
mind a blank to everything that was going on about 
him. 

Mr. Oldmixon sat and looked at the struggling form 
before him, apparently unmoved by the frightful sight. 
He seemed to be engaged in studying the various con- 
tortions that the arms and legs were undergoing, and 
imagining to himself what would be the next expression 
that the face of the unconscious man would assume. 
Then suddenly an idea occurred to him. 

^' This will never do !" he exclaimed — ^' dying with- 
out confessing. Oh, no ; 1 can never allow that !" He 
got up from his chair with as much celerity as was 
attainable, and rang the bell. Then he took the little 
vial of the nitrite of amyl from his waistcoat pocket, and 
pouring a few drops on his hand, held it over Hogarth's 
mouth. By this time Thomas had answered the bell. 

^' Mr. Hogarth has a fit, or something of the kind," 
said Mr. Oldmixon to the man. '^ Loosen his cravat 
and bring that pillow from the lounge and put it under 
his head. 

*'He's coming round," he continued, as he noticed 
that the purple hue of the face was disappearing, and that 



"my god! which shall it B^V^ 395 

the qonvulsive movements were less violent. " He'll be 
all right in a moment or two. Go and tell Dan to come 
and help you to carry him up to his own room and lay 
him on the bed." 

But before Thomas could go on this errand the sick 
man opened his eyes, and looking wildly about him, began 
to talk incoherently, a word or two only being occasionally 
distinguishable, while the rest was a mass of thick gut- 
tural gibberish. Then he raised himself on his elbow, 
and with Thomas's assistance managed to assume the 
erect posture and to stand supported by the man's arm, 
though his legs trembled as though they would every 
moment give way under him. 

" Do you feel better, my dear boy ?" said Mr. Old- 
mixon, in a sympathizing voice. '' 1 was just about to 
have you carried up-stairs to your room, where you will 
be more comfortable. But perhaps you would prefer 
to stay here ? Yes ? Put the pillow back on the lounge, 
Thomas, and help Mr. Hogarth to make himself comfort- 
able. 1 had no idea you were subject to such turns. 
You will have to see a doctor. Don't send for Jimnay, 
whatever you do. He's an ass, and liked to have killed 
me a week or so ago. Besides, he's got the dyspepsia, 
and a doctor with a bad stomach always has a bad heart. 
Get Milledge ; he's the only doctor in New York that 
knows anything. He'll charge you twenty-five dollars 
for the first visit, but when he's gone you'll feel that 
you've had the worth of your money. Shall I send for 
him, my dear boy ? So sorry you should be so afflicted !" 

By this time Hogarth had been led to the lounge and 
was about lying down on it. He turned toward his 
uncle as the question reached his ears, and looked at him 
stupidly for a moment ; then he let his head fall on the 






396 MR. OLDMIXOIS'. 

pillow, and in an instant was in a heavy sleep, or rather 
stupor, if a judgment could be formed from the charac- 
ter of his breathing and the dull, stolid, vacant e:q)res8ioii 
on his turgid and still livid face. 

Mr. Oldmixon went on with his breakfast, and having 
finished it, he gave a look at his nephew, who was still 
insensible and breathing heavily. '' It's only the stupor 
after the fit," he said to himself, as he went to the library. 
''I had an aunt that used to have one every Sunday 
morning, just as regularly as the day came round, and the 
stupor lasted till late in the afternoon. It's epilepsy, and 
it's in the Oldmixon family, along with the other nice 
heritages they possess. I'll not bother him with a doctor. 
But, by George ! how that Shakesperian shot told ! If 
it hadn't been for the fit he would have confessed then 
and there. It was on his mind to do so — I know by 
that look that he gave me just before he went to sleep. 
He couldn't collect his thoughts. He knew there was 
something, but he couldn't tell what it was. I heard him 
say ^ Camilla ' and ' pillow ' while he was still on the 
fioor and trying to talk. O you scoundrel !" he con- 
tinued, as he seated himself at his desk and began work- 
ing on his manuscript, " you black-hearted murderer, I'll 
bring you to it, if you have to suffer the torments of the 
damned, and then you will not have half atoned for your 
cruel crime. I should like to be present with him at 
Salvini's performance of the part of Othello. By Heaven ! 
I believe it would kill him. " 

He had not been engaged more than a few minutes 
when Thomas entered with the morning's letters. There 
were half a dozen, all for Mr. Oldmixon. He scarcely 
looked at them, but went on with his alterations in his 
manuscript, so that a half hour had elapsed l)efore he 



W 



''my god! which shall it be?" 397 

turned his attention to the communications, still un- 
opened, that lay before him. 

Then he slit up their envelopes with a paper-knife, and 
read a line or two of each, so as to see that it was of no 
importance, till he came to one post-marked New 
Eochelle, and directed in a handwriting which, though 
he had never seen it before, he knew was Barbara's. 

" Ah !" he exclaimed, pressing it to his lips, '' the 
angel writes to me. What is there that 1 would not do 
for her ? Nothing — absolutely nothing ! If she were to 
ask me to put a millstone around my neck and jump into 
the East River, I'd do it at once. Let me see what the 
sweet girl wants." 

He opened the letter as he had the others, but, unlike 
his actions with them, he read it through carefully to the 
end. Then he laid it down on the desk, and shutting 
his eyes, lay back in the chair to think. For nearly an 
hour he remained abstracted from the consideration of 
every other subject but the contents of Barbara's letter. 
Then, taking the letter he read it again, still more slowly 
than before, and holding it in his hand, paced the floor, 
stopping now and then to read parts of it again. At 
last he appeared to have made up his mind what to do, 
for he went to his desk and wrote two letters— one to 
Barbara and one to Jack. 

That to Barbara was as follows : 

*^ My deab Barbara : I have read your dear letter, 
and have been greatly impressed by what you say. I 
should be very glad if I could see you again. Will not 
you and your father dine with me at six o'clock on Friday 
evening next ? I make the hour early, because you will 
then be able to return home by the eleven p.m. train. 



398 MB, OLDKIXON. 

After dinner I shall be delighted to read you a chapter 
of my novel. My carriage will meet you at the station, 
and will take you back. I have invited Jack, and of 
course he will come. Tou will also have an opportunity 
of making the acquaintance of my nephew Hogarth, in 
whom you are so much interested. 
** Yours afiectionately, 

" ViCrrOE CONSTANTINK OlDMIXON." 

To Jack he wrote : 

*^ My dear Jack : Dine with me to-morrow at six. 
I have invited Barbara and her father. 1 wish your 
opinion on certain parts of my novel, which I am now 
preparing for the press. I propose to read them to you 
after dinner. 

*^ You will also meet your brother Hogarth. I am 
sure it is only necessary for me to tell you this in order 
to increase your anxiety to be present. The virtue of 
forgiveness is one that need not be urged upon so good 
a man as you. Come, therefore, with the resolution to 
take him again into your heart. Bury the hatchet. Jack. 
1 am burying all mine, and getting ready therefore to face 
my Maker ; but 1 find the process requires a larger grave- 
yard than I at first expected. However, the work goes 
bravely on. 

** Your affectionate uncle, 

^' Victor.'^ 

Then, having sealed these letters and sent them to be 
mailed, he dressed himself with his usual care and strolled 
down to the LucuUus Club-house. 



CHAPTER XXYII. 

^' EVKRYTHING'fl GOING ON WELL." 

Mb. Oldmlson's dinner was for Friday, and it was 
on Tuesday of the same week that he sent out his in- 
vitations. On the following morning — Wednesday — 
Barbara went to town as usual, having received Mr. 
Oldmixon's letter the previous evening, but concluding 
that she would not answer it tiU she had seen Jack. On 
the day following Mr. Oldmixon's visit to her he had, as 
was his habit now, met her at the station, and had walked 
with her to Mr. Maurice's studio. These morning 
walks in the fresh, bracing December air were the chief 
pleasures that the two young people had, except those 
oflfered by Jack's Saturday-evening visits to Lasata and 
his stay through Sunday till Monday morning. During 
this walk she had informed him of all that had taken 
place between her and Mr. Oldmixon, and of the dis- 
covery she had made that she was the woman for whom 
his uncle designed him and who was to receive his estate, 
should Jack neglect or refuse to marry her. Of course 
this information pleased the young man exceedingly, 
and he was not inclined to regard the matter in the light 
of a liberty, almost amounting to an insult, as had Barbara. 
It took from his mind all the regret that he had experi- 
enced at not being able to oblige his uncle, and he was, 
besides, enough of a man of the world to know the 
advantages that Mr. Oldmixon's estate would be to 



400 MR. OLDKIXOK. 

himself and his wife. Then, after settling that point 
eTentually to their satisfaction, Barbara had asked his 
advice in r^ard to her going to see Miss Bangs and put- 
ting her on her guard against the devices of Hogarth. 
She had thought of the subject a good deal since Mr. 
Oldmixon^s departure, and the more she had considered 
the matter the more she was disposed to enlighten her 
taxidermist rival and the robber of her reputation rela- 
tive to the scheme of which it seemed as though she was 
about to be the subject. 

Jack, however, after as long and mature thought as 
was poGsible while walking down Fifth Avenue, with 
Barbara bv his side, had expressed his decided opinion 
that interference now would be premature. 

** It isn't likely,'' he said, " that Hogarth, under any 
circumstances, will marry Miss Bangs at once. In fact, 
I do not see how he could, even if he wanted to. He has 
probably never seen her in his life, and though it is 
likely that as soon as she makes his acquaintance and 
finds out who he is she will agree to marry him, several 
days must elapse before the arrangements can be effected. 
Xow, yon see, ray dear Bab," he continued, assuming 
his most argumentative manner, ^' the only reason why 
Hogarth wishes to marry Miss Bangs, if he really has 
such a desire — and of that you must admit that we have 
no positive evidence — is that he supposes her to be the 
heiress of my uncle' s property. Of course, from his stand- 
point such a marriage would have to be kept secret till 
my uncle'^s death, for certainly if Miss Bangs were the 
heiress, as we will say Hogarth snpposes her to be, the 
ni-ill would certainly be changed by my uncle as soon as he 
became aware of the marriage. Hogarth is too shrewd 
a fellow not to look out for all possible contingencies. 




*' everything's going on well." 401 

Now, it strikes me that the one absolutely sure way to 
prevent the marriage would be to inform Hogarth that 
Miss Bangs is not the heiress, that my uncle has no inten- 
tion of making her such, or of in any way altering the 
will abeady made. He would believe this if the informa- 
tion came from me, and I will tell him at once. Then, 
don't you see. Miss Bangs would not be brought into the 
matter at all, unless Hogarth should want to marry her 
out of love, which it is very unlikely he will care to do." 

" I think you are right," said Barbara, after she had 
thought for a little while of what Jack had said ; ^^ but 
lose no time ; events seem to me to be coming to a focus, 
and there is really every reason why you should act 
speedily." 

"When he met her the next morning they had both 
received their invitations to dine with Mr. Oldmixon 
on the following Friday. Jack had already accepted his, 
but Barbara had, as we know, detennined to advise with 
her lover on the subject before deciding to partake of 
Mr. Oldmixon's hospitality. Jack was of the opinion 
that she ought to go. It would please his uncle, and 
it would please him. What more could she want ? 

'^ I'll meet you and your father at the station and 
take you over to Uncle Victor's house, and then when 
the dinner is over I'll take you back. Besides, we shall 
of course sit together at the table." 

" It will all be very nice, but I do not like the idea of 
meeting your brother ; in fact, I am afraid of him." 

" I don't like the idea either," rejoined Jack, " but 
Uncle Victor is evidently in a forgiving mood, brought 
about, doubtless, by your letter, and I don't think it 
would be advisable for me to say or do anything that 
might prompt him to change his present disposition. He ^ 



j^' •« 



402 MR. OLDMIXOK. 

lias appealed to me to make friends with Hogarth, and 1 
have decided to do so. My brother has heretofore been 
ID J worst enemy, bnt I suppose that that is no reason 
why I should not be ready to meet him half-way in a 
reconciliation." 

^' That is right," exclaimed Barbara, with emphasis. 
'^ I am glad that my letter has apparently not been with- 
out influence. Then we will all go,* and may the dinner 
be the means of restoring peace among us ! 

'^ And, Jack,^' resumed Barbara, with an arch smile, 
after they had walked a little farther, " don't you think 
that, as your undo is going to tell us his story, you might 
inform us how you caught the silver fox ? You know 
wo are still in ignorance of the process of capture." 

** By George ! I forgot all about the silver fox. Of 
course, I'll tell yon. You see, Bab, we've always had so 
many things to talk about and so little time at our dis- 
posal, that it has always escaped my memory. It's a 
wonderful story, and will make each individual hair of 
your head stand on end." 

'' Then I shall look like a comet, or a blaziug star, or 
some other fiery contrivance." 

By this time they had reached the door of the apart- 
ment house in which Mr. Maurice had his studio. It 
was not often that Jack went any farther, for he thought 
it only right that Barbara should be allowed all the time 
and opportunity to advance in her new profession, with- 
out let or hindrance from him. But to-day she was so 
anxious to show him her work on a head of her father 
that she was modelling, and he was so anxious to see it, 
that it did not take much pereuasion to induce him to go 
up with her. 

Mr. Maurice had several young lady pupils whose in- 



"everything's going on well." 403 

struction was generally left to Mrs. Maurice, until, at least, 
they had acquired the rudiments of the art, and had shown 
some degree of talent for the work before them. It very 
often happened that a pupil never got farther than tte 
instruction that the lady was able to give her ; for if she 
showed an incapacity for advancing, Mr. Maurice very 
frankly, but very kindly told her of the fact, and advised 
her to take to some profession for which she might be 
better adapted than she was for sculpture. Barbara, 
however, had almost immediately passed from Mrs. 
Maurice's mim'strations to those of her husband. She 
had from the very first shown a genius for her chosen 
art, that had at once surprised and delighted him, and he 
had, in consequence, taken that loving interest in her ad- 
vancement that was in itself an incentive to her, only 
second in power to her own inherent love for the work 
to which she had resolved to devote herself. 

For several days past her father had either accompa- 
nied her to the city, or had come to the studio in order to 
give her the sittings she required in modelling a bust of 
him. She had taken the utmost interest in this produc- 
tion, and it promised to be in every way worthy of her 
genius. Mr. Henschel's head was one that an artist could 
not fail to notice and to admire. It was not unlike, in 
general characteristics, that of some mediaeval saint, with 
its long white beard, and its face expressive both of that 
sternness and gentleness that the holy worthies of the 
middle ages are represented by the painters of the time 
to have possessed, and which those of the present day 
deem it essential to give them. 

Jack did not stay long at the studio. He admired the < 
head, which was already well advanced toward comple- 
tion, talked a little with Mr. and Mrs. Maurice and heard 



404 MR. OLDMIXON^. 

with pleasure their enoomimns of Barbara, and then went 
to the Lncnllns Chib to meet his nncle, with whom he 
had an appointment. 

As he walked down the street, Jack wondered what 
was the particolar matter about which his uncle wished 
to see him. In his letter of acceptance he had very mag- 
nanimouslT expressed his approval of the plan of recon- 
ciliation, but he was, of course, anxious to know some- 
thing more definite in regard to what was expected of 
him, and he hoped to be able to get some information on 
the subject that morning. But he felt now that it was 
not to talk about that that his unde had requested this 
interview, but doubtless for some purpose of his own 
that interested him greatly, and in which he desired his 
nephew's co-operation. On that point he did not feel 
much doubt. 

In talking the matter over with Barbara, they had both 
alluded to the fact that, while Mr. Oldmixon had pointed 
out to Jack the duty that was upon him, of forgiving his 
brother, he had markedly refrained from saying anythiDg 
about what he himself contemplated doing. In his 
letter to Barbara he had avoided the subject altogether. 
This struck them both as being suspicious of the fact that 
he was not so forgiving as he apparently desired others to 
be. Jack had seen enough of his uncle to be aware of 
the fact that he could be intensely secretive when he 
chose to be so, and that he was at all times utterly nn- 
sonipulous as to the means he took to accomplish his 
objects. He seemed to have no conscience whatever in 
the matter of deceiving those whom he assumed to love 
and respect, and for whom he probably did have a high 
rogjird ; nor to be actuated by any other principle than 
an intensely morbid impulse to accomplish his ends 



''EVERYTHIiq^G's GOING ON WELL." 405 

without reference to the morality of the means em- 
ployed. 

As to whether Mr. Oldmixon was- correct in his belief 
that Hogarth had murdered his wife by smothering her 
with a pillow. Jack was more in doubt than he had been. 
The fact that his uncle had, many years ago, been at 
Annapolis, as he had admitted to Barbara, and had prob- 
ably occupied the very rooms he had so minutely described, 
had somewhat weakened the conviction of his brother's 
guilt that he had, after the visit to that city, been forced 
to form. Still, he was by no means satisfied of Hogarth's 
innocence. There was a degree of positiveness about his 
uncle's assertions that impressed him very strongly, and 
he could scarcely go so far as to ascribe the correctness 
of his topography of the rooms in the hotel at Annapolis 
to recollections revived after having been dormant for 
over thirty years, and when the fact of the visit had 
altogether faded from the memory. 

But, whether his brother were guilty or not. Jack was 
perfectly clear as to the impropriety of his uncle's tak- 
ing the part of a detective or that of a questioner in a 
torture process. In this he had not changed since Mr. 
Oldmixon had first revealed his intentions, and he was 
delighted to find that Barbara was equally emphatic as he 
was himself in her denunciations of his uncle's proced- 
ure. There was a bare hope that the old gentleman had 
renounced his intentions, and that the dinner would wit- 
ness the restoration of peace all around, to the extent 
that peace was possible in a family in which there were 
so many disturbing factors as there were in his. So far 
as he was concerned he was prepared to get on good 
terms with Hogarth, but as to being friendly with him, 
as one brother should be with another. Jack felt that 



406 MB. OLDKIXOX. 

that would be impoesible. He bad no respect for Ho- 
garth ; he knew that he was, in every relation of life, a bad 
man — one that had, in fact, scarcely a redeeming quality, 
if, indeed, he was not wholly and incorrigibly depraved. 
To be on relations of intimacy and confidence witli such a 
man was out of the question. But Jack intended to 
again insist upon Hogarth being made co-heir with him- 
self to his uncle's estate, or failing in attaining his wish, 
to make over by deed of gift one exact half of the prop- 
erty so soon as it should come into his possession. It 
would seem as though a man or a woman cannot be so 
utterly wicked and degraded but that there are some 
good people constantly on the watch to protect their in- 
terests. 

When he arrived at the Lucullus Club House he found 
that his uncle was already there and was expecting him 
in the reception-room. 

^'I've only just come, my boy, so that you haven't 
kept me waiting a moment,' ' said Mr. Oldmixon, as he 
shook his nephew heartily by the hand. " It's an infer- 
nal outrage that 1 can't ask you any farther into the 
Club House than this reception-room, unless I invite you 
to dinner, and it's too early for that. Here we're liable 
to be interrupted any moment. By George ! I'll start a 
club in which members shall have the privilege of asking 
their friends into a private room when they want to have 
conversation that they don't want all the town to hear." 

'' That wouldn't be a bad idea. Uncle Victor," said 
Jack, laughing. *' Still, it's so early in the morning that 
we're not likely to be disturbed." 

^* Well, my dear boy, sit down. If any fellow comes 
in we'll jump into my carriage. I told Dan to be here 
by eleven o'clock." He dropped into a large arm-chair, 



*' everything's going on well." 407 

in which he was nearly wholly concealed, and Jack took 
one equally comfortable near him. 

" Everything's going on well," resumed Mr. Oldmix- 
on, as he handed Jack his cigar-case and took a "weed" 
for himself. * * I've almost brought that scoundrel Hogarth 
to a confession. Every time I mention smothering to 
him he goes off into some kind of a fit — epileptic, I sup- 
pose — and doesn't get over it for several hours. I wish 
you could have seen the effect yesterday when 1 invited 
him to go with me to see Salvini play Othello and smother 
Desdemona. I was afraid at first that he was going to 
die without making a confession in so many words, but for- 
tunately he came to himself again. Jack, my boy, I'd 
give ten thousand dollars if I could get him to go and see 
Salvini in Othello ! He'll never do it. It would be the 
last of him, and I believe he would end with a full con- 
fession." 

"Oh, uncle I can't you make up your mind to cease 
your warfare on Hogarth ? What is to be gained by it 
beyond the horrid satisfaction you may obtain of having 
your suspicions confirmed? Surely, for that poor reward, 
you are not going to make Barbara and me, and event- 
ually yourself, unhappy !" 

" Barbara ! Oh, Jack, my dear boy, to think that you 
and I should have been two such fools as almost to quar- 
rel about a matter upon which we were both agreed I I 
was just going to tell you how much pleasure the discov- 
ery I made gave me, when you introduced this Hogarth 
affair. Jack," continued Mr. Oldmixon, in a subdued 
voice, "get married as soon as you can. Perhaps if 
Hogarth should be hanged for his crime she might feel 
inclined to back out. Take her at once, my boy, before 
he makes confession. Don't you think you could get 



408 MR. OLDMIXON. 

her to go with you this morning to a parson and have the 
knot tied ? I asked you to meet me here for the purpose 
of putting this matter before you. My dear boy, hurry 
matters up at once, or I am afraid she'll slip through your 
fingers after all." 

Jack was astounded. He looked at his uncle, unable 
for a while to speak a word. Then he said, very slowly 
and very sedately : 

" I think you do not know Barbara. If Hogarth and 
you were both to be hanged, she would not give me up. 
I would not dare to insult her by proposing such a scheme 
as the one you suggest. She is as gentle, as refined, as 
truthful as — as — I can't find anything to compare her 
with," he added, as his ideas of lovely beings failed 
him. 

Mr. Oldmixon rose and shut the door. 

'* Jack, my boy," he said, as he laid a hand on Jack's 
shoulder, while his emotion almost choked his utterance, 
^^ don't, for God's sake, look at the matter in that way ! 
I adore her as much as you do, and would be the last man 
to say a word or advise an act that could properly be 
construed into one of disrespect. But, my God, Jack, 
I am afraid ! Think of the disgrace of having a brother- 
in-law hanged ! Would you marry her if her father was 
a convict or was about to be tried for his life ?' ' 

"Yes," exclaimed Jack, interrupting him. "I'd 
marry her if every relation she overbad in the world had 
been hanged." 

" But she's so good herself. Jack, so pure, that I'm 
afraid that when she hears the whole truth about Ho- 
garth, and he has been hanged in the jail-yard at An- 
napolis, she'll fell wronged and disgraced, and will pine 
away and die of her grief." 



b 



(4 



everything's going on well/' 409 



"1 tell you yon don't know her," cried Jack, excited- 
ly. " I've talked the whole matter over with her, and 
she's as true as steel. I'll never insult her by proposing 
a marriage that would disgrace an immigrant just landed 
from the steerage. Please God, she shall marry me in 
her father's house, in decency and in order, or not at all !" 

" My poor boy, you don't know women as I know 
them. No matter how good they may be, they have 
their peculiarities, and the better they are the more dis- 
tinctively peculiar they are. Barbara comes of an hon- 
orable stock, humble though it may be, and she and her 
father are as proud as Lucifer, and whatever she may 
say now you may depend upon it that when your brother 
stands, as he will, under the shadow of the gallows, she'll 
give you up, if it kills her to do so. No, no !" seeing that 
Jack was about to expostulate, ^^ hear me out to the end 
before you say another word. See here !" taking as he 
spoke a bundle of papers from the breast-pocket of his 
coat. " I shall not live more than a month or two long- 
er, at most ; I feel certain symptoms about my heart 
that warn me of my approaching end. By my will all 
my estate goes to you or Barbara — it makes no differ- 
ence now which of you gets it — but, lest you should be 
apprehensive that 1 might play you a trick, I have here 
deeds and bonds and certificates of stock amounting to 
six hundred thousand dollars that I am going to make 
over to you now, by deed of gift. The papers are all in 
order, I executed the deed this morning before a notary, 
and all you have to do is to marry Barbara to-day, or to- 
morrow at farthest, and the whole of it is yours. I have 
kept back about two hundred thousand dollars, enough 
to yield me all the income I shall want while I live, and 

which will also go to you when I die." 
18 



410 MB. OLDiaXOK. 

i a 

Jack rose from his chair long before Mr. Oldmixoii 
finished speaking, and was pacing the floor in a state of 
extreme agitation. His nncle's pertinacity and evident 
sincerity troubled him greatly, though the magnifi^cent 
offer made to him did not at all shake him in the de- 
termination he had already expressed. It was only an- 
other evidence to his, mind of the unchanged resolution 
of his uncle to bring Hogarth to confession and disgrace, 
if it were in his power to do so, and he shuddered 9$ he 
thought of the indignity that the whole matter was like- 
ly to fix upon the Oldmixon family and all connected 
with him. He felt assured that his unde was entirely 
certain of Hogarth's guilt, and that he meant to expose 
him at the earliest possible moment, probably at the din- 
ner to which he and B£u*bara had been invited, and which 
he now determined that neither he nor Barbara would 
attend unless assurances were given that no such act was 
in contemplation. 

"I cannot accept your offer. Uncle Victor, '' he said, 
at last. '' I am sensible of the existence of a sincere de- 
sire on your part to secure Barbara for me as a wife. 
You need be under no apprehension in regard to the 
matter, for she will as certainly marry me as that the sun 
shines in the heavens. I have no fear, but if you feel 
that there is the slightest uncertainty on the subject, 
you have it in your power to banish it by simply resolv- 
ing to let Hogarth rest in piece, to be punished by his 
own conscience and as God may otherwise diuect." 

" My dear boy 1" exclaimed Mr. Oldmixon, in a hoarse 
voice, ^' 1 can't do that. It is impossible. I have tried 
to bring my mind to such a conclusion, but it is out of 
the question. I can't do it." He looked helplessly 
about him as he spoke these last words, his gaze resting 



" everything'^s going on well." 411 

at last on Jack as though he was appealing to him to 
give him the strength he required. 

" Then, Uncle Victor," said Jack, who notwithstand- 
ing that he pitied his uncle, was convinced, from former 
experience, that the exhibition of compassion was not at 
all calculated to make him yield, '^ there is but one thing 
for Barbara and Mr. Henschel and me to do, and that is 
to stay away from your dinner. It would be very dis- 
tressing to all of us to be present at such a scene as you 
possibly have it in your power to get up. It would be 
peculiarly unbecoming in you to develop your opin- 
ions in Barbara's presence. She is about to become a 
member of the family, and, though I think it right that 
she should know — and she does know — that there are 
skeletons in our closets, I think it exceedingly scandalous 
to drag them out and exhibit them to her in all their 
disgraceful proportions, and at a dinner, too, where very 
different means of entertainment should be provided by 
the host for his guests than that of exposing a supposed 
murderer, and he his own nephew." 

" Well, Mr. Jack Oldmixon," exclaimed the old gen- 
tleman, who, while Jack was speaking, had recovered his 
equanimity, "if you think you have quite concluded 
your discourse, perhaps you will allow me the opportu- 
nity of saying a word. Who said anything about expos- 
ing the villain, the basilisk, at my dinner-table ? Do 
you take me for such a vulgar wretch as to interfere with 
the appetites of my guests by harassing their minds with 
ideas of that scoundrel's crimes ? Do you suppose that 
I could run the risk of having my houdins de perdreaux 
h la Richelieu or my pain de giMer au sujpremey upon 
which so much care will be exercised, unappreciated, 
perhaps even to be handed round without being tasted ? 



412 MR. OLBMIXOK. 

Ko, yon do not know me if yon suppose for a moment 
that I wonld commit an ontrage of the kind, and I feel 
hurt, yes, angry, that yoa should think me snch a savage 
as yonr suspicions imply." And Mr. Oldmixon's eyes 
filled with tears so rapidly that repeated applications of 
his handkerchief were necessary for their absorption. 

" I beg your pardon. Uncle Victor," said Jack^ hum- 
bly, " I did not intend — " 

** No, no I of course you ' did not intend,' " rejoined 
Mr. Oldmixon, in a tone of voice that was intended to 
convey the idea that the feelings of the speaker were in- 
jured to a degree that would not readily be lessened. 
"It is always the unintentional word that cuts the 
deepest. You shall all eat your dinners in peace, and 
with that amount of enjoyment that the goodness of the 
feast and the excellence of the company will warrant. 
After dinner 1 had proposed to read a few pages from 
my novel, hoping that they would interest those that I 
had brought together ; but if this plan is disagreeable to 
you it can easily be changed, and we can have a recita- 
tion from you, or a chapter from the Bible, if it suits you 
better, read by that eminent biblical expositor and exem- 
plar, Mr. Hogarth Oldmixon." 

"Again, I humbly beg your pardon," reiterated Jack, 
" and express my regret at my error. Of course we will 
have the novel ; I am anxious to hear a specimen of it 
read and by such a good reader as you are ; and Barbara, 
likewise, is greatly interested." 

"Then you want to -hear a chapter or so from my 
novel, and you are quite sure Barbara would also be 
pleased with the reading?" said Mr. Oldmixon, much 
mollified by Jack's soothing speech. " My dear boy, you 
shall both be gratified ! I shall select the most interest- 



*'evebythikg's going on well." 413 

ing chapter of the book, one that I am sure will keep 
your attention riveted ; for its dramatic intensity is so 
pronounced that the minds of those persons hearing it 
read will be so engrossed that thoughts other than those 
excited by my ideas will be impossible." 

Jack made a satisfactory rejoinder to this burst of self- 
adulatory enthusiasm, and soon afterward took his depar- 
ture. Mr. Oldmixon retamed his deeds and valuable 
papers to his pocket, apparently feeling little or no re- 
gret at his failure to induce Jack to receive them as a 
bribe for hastening his marriage with Barbara. Then 
he took two or three strides across the floor, as though to 
get rid of some surplus energy before going out into the 
public rooms of the club house, and finally, with a look of 
self-satisfaction, not altogether free from that species of 
facial expression that is designated Mephistophelian, or 
diabolical, or Satanic, or by some other adjective expres- 
sive of the personality of the Prince of Darkness, he put 
on his hat, buttoned up his coat, and, passing through the 
hall to the street, ordered his coachman to drive him to 
the National Academy, where there was an exhibition of 
pictures — among which was the one Jack had painted for 
Mr. Van der Linden, and which he had not yet seen. 



CHAPTEE XXVin. 

HOOABTH IS SATISFIED. 

The episode of Othello had a greater effect upon Ho- 
garth Oldmixon than any other that had been introduced 
by his uncle, and it was not until late the following day 
that he had entirely recovered from the mental and phys- 
ical disturbance consequent upon the paroxysm with 
which he had been visited. He had now no doubt that 
his secret was known to at least one person^ and that 
there was a systematic attempt being made to cause him 
trouble. "What the ultimate object of his persecutor 
was he could not divine ; he did not believe that it ex- 
tended to the point of deliveriug him up to justice to be 
tried for his crime. He was not able to conceive of the 
possibility of his own uncle, who, up to quite a recent 
period, had been his friend and protector, acting the part 
of a detective policeman and doing all in his power to 
bring him to the gallows. He was quite sure that no 
one saw him kill his wife, and that the persecution to 
which he was subjected was altogether based upon con- 
jecture and suspicion. He was also very certain that his 
own conduct, in the face of his uncle's tortures, had had 
the effect of strengthening the belief of his guilt that 
was entertained by his tormentor, and had consequently 
served to encourage him to still more positive efforts to 
make him say or do something that would place his crim- 
inality beyond a perad venture. Hitherto, however want- 



HOGABTH IS SATISFIED. 415 

ing in the confidence of innocence lus conduct might 
have been under the taunts and innuendoes heaped upon 
him, he had never positively committed himself by 
words, or even let drop an expression that could, by the 
most eager detective, have been construed into an 
acknowledgment of guilt. He had been several times 
on the point of confessing, and of throwing himself on 
his uncle's mercy, but had up to the present time main- 
tained sufficient command of himself to keep silent. 
The impulses he had experienced to reveal all were 
bom of the occasions, and were instinctively self -defen- 
sive, unprompted as they were by deliberate thought ; but 
as he lay in bed on the morning of the day of his uncle's 
dinner and looked up at the ceiling in a meditative sort 
of a way, he was not quite sure that it would not be 
well to seek out his persecutor as soon as possible and 
make a clean breast of it. This was the only alternative 
that then presented itself to that of murdering his uncle 
and marrying Miss Bangs, whom he was certain was the 
woman to whom the estate had been devised, in the 
event of Jack failing to marry her. 

The question was certainly a momentous one : confes- 
sion of one murder or the perpetration of another ; and 
Hogarth thought it over as thoroughly as the state of his 
brain permitted. His head still ached, he had passed a 
restless night, and his mind was by no means clear that 
morning, so that he was not able to bring to bear the 
full force of an intellect that, in a state of health, gener- 
ally served him well. But he did his best in the effort 
to arrive at a decision that should be final. He felt con- 
fident that matters were approaching a crisis, and he had 
some apprehension that with the evidences of criminality 
that his uncle had already obtained he might at any 



416 MR. OLI>MIXON. 

moment denounce him. He did not', it is true, think 
that there was much danger of such a coarse being 
pursued ; but Mr. Oldmixon was a singular being who 
could never be depended upon for doing what others 
thought he ought to do, and, besides, Hogarth did not 
know the extent of his information. He must have 
something positive, he thought, or why should he have 
begun such a systematic and well-formed an attack ? Be 
could not have been more explicit in his assaults if he 
had seen the murder committed, for at one time or an- 
other he had insinuated every feature of the deed as it 
had actually occurred. The thought of all this was very 
terrible to Hogarth, He perceived that his uncle was 
merciless, and that his words and acts that had the ap- 
pearance of kindness were intensely hypocritical and a 
part of his general plan of deception. He now saw why 
he had been invited to the house, and he thoroughly 
comprehended the fraud of the new will, the rough 
draft of which was still in his coat pocket undelivered 
to Mjp. Eidley, but which he would take down to him 
to-day. 

Perhaps it would be better to defer deciding the mat- 
ter till he had seen Mr. Kidley, and observed that gentle- 
man in the presence of the draft of the new will that he 
had been authorized to deliver to him. That would only 
be postponing the further consideration for a few hours, 
and then he would probably be in a better position for 
arriving at a conclusion than he was now. Mr. Ridley 
was a very different person from his uncle, and would 
not lie or knowingly be a party to a fraud. One thing 
was certain, he could not much longer endure the daily 
tortures that his uncle was inflicting on him. He felt 
that his mind was giving way ; for, though he had not 



HOGABTH IS SATISFIED. 417 

since his decision of a few days ago seen the face that 
had haunted him, he had had other mental troubles of 
fully as serious* a character. He had been disposed to at- 
tribute the disappearance of the face to the fact that his 
mind had lost its uncertainty when he had resolved that 
his uncle should be smothered, but he had since then 
been fully as perplexed as ever before in regard to the 
course to be pursued, and yet the face had not returned. 
As he lay in bed he speculated in regard to the appear- 
ance and disappearance of the hallucination that had so 
disturbed him, and though he could give no satisfactory 
explanation of the phenomenon, he fully recognized the 
fact of its unreality. '^ 1 suppose," he said to himself, 
^^ that I had been thinking so much about the matter 
and had got into such a worried condition of mind that 
my brain wouldn't work right. Well, 1 don't believe it 
would trouble me much now if it were to come back ; 
there is such a thing," he added, with a little laugh, '^ as 
getting used to being haunted." 

Mr. Oldmixon, of course, had told him of the dinner 
that was to take place that evening, and had also informed 
him who were to be the guests. 

' " You know, my dear boy,' ' he had said, ** that I am a 
very old man and shall not probably stay much longer 
with you all. 1 have become reconciled to Jack, and I 
wish you to do so likewise. Surely you can afford to be 
magnanimous to your brother, seeing that you will suc- 
ceed to the whole of my estate." 

Hogarth had with as good a grace as was possible ex- 
pressed his willingness to resume relations with Jack, 
but had added that he was feeling so badly after his re- 
cent attack that he begged to be excused from being 
present. He would meet Jack, he said, the following 

18» 



418 MB. OLDMIXON. • 

day, and then tliej conld exchange regrets and become 
friends again. 

'^ No, no," replied Mr. Oldmixon, " that will not do 
at all ; I never saw you looking better than you do now. 
I not only want you to see Jack, but I am especially 
desirous to have you meet the lady he is going to 
marry." 

" Jack is going to be married !" 

" Yes, he chose to select his wife without reference to 
my wishes, but that is no reason why the family should 
not treat her kindly, especially as I believe she is quite a 
good sort of a girl in her way. She's a sculptor, I be- 
lieve, a pupil of Maurice's. Jack seems to be infatuated 
with her, and though — well, well," he added, as thougb 
interrupting himself in what he was about to say, '^ it isn't 
necessary now to go into all that, since such a great 
change has recently taken place in our family afiEairs." 

" "What change do you mean ?'^ 

'^ Why, your coming back to me, of course. Ton 
have always, except for a few days, been my favorite 
nephew." 

'^ Oh, yes ! I'm much obliged." 

" Don't forget that draft of the will ; Ridley is wait- 
ing for it." 

So the conversation had ended, and Hogarth, as he lay 
in bed, recalled all the details of it. He did not wish to 
go to the dinner, or to resume relations with Jack, or to 
make the acquaintance of Miss Henschel, but he saw no 
way of avoidance, unless upon the plea of illness, and he 
did not believe that that excuse would be accepted, unless 
he was obviously too ill to be present. No, there was 
no escape for him. 

He did not expect any trouble from his uncle during 



HOGABTH IS SATISFIED. 419 

the dinner. He was sure that, no matter liow determined 
the old gentleman might be in the matter of making 
him feel nnoomfortable, he had not yet reached the 
point of being willing to expose him to strangers. Evi- 
dentljy whatever suspicions or facts he had he had thus 
far kept in his own bosom. The time for making the 
world acquainted with his hypothesis or knowledge might 
come, but it had not yet arrived. 

He turned over and looked at his watch that lay on 
the table by the side of the bed. It was ten o'clock, 
so he got up, took his cold bath, as was his habit, and, 
dressing himself at once for the street, went down to the 
breakfast-room. As he expected, Mr. Oldmixon had not 
yet left his bedroom. He ordered a cup of coffee and a 
roll, and, having soon disposed of the light repast, left the 
house and started to go down- town to Mr. Ridley's office. 
The coffee made him feel better than he had felt before get- 
ting up, and the cold air of the December morning tended 
still further to dissipate the sense of constriction and pain 
that he had experienced in his head. He hesitated as to 
whether he should take the elevated railway from Forty- 
second Street or walk all the way down. Finally, con- 
sidering that he was not yet quite himself, and that a walk 
of three or four miles would stir his blood and probably 
carry off his bad feelings, he decided to use his legs in- 
stead of the iagency provided by the Metropolitan Ele- 
vated Railway Company. By the time he arrived at his 
destination he felt something like his normal self, and 
fully equal to a contest of sublety and sharp practice with 
even so redoubtable an adversary as he knew Mr. Rid- 
ley to be. It was nearly twelve o' clock when he knocked 
at the door of the lawyer's anteroom, and, in compli- 
ance with an invitation to that effect given by the small 



420 KB. OLBMIXOK. 

boy that attended to the door, entered, and took a seat till 
Mr. Eidlej should be disengaged. 

He sat at a desk in one comer of the room, while the 
small boy was diligently occupied, in a diagonally opposite 
comer, in reading some one of the story-telling weekly, 
newspapers published in the city of New York in which 
pursuers of literature of his class take special delight. 
Hogarth had nothing to read and no other way of occu- 
pying the time till Mr. Ridley had gotten rid of his 
present visitor than by looking ai'ound him. He had 
diligently pursued this occupation for several minutes, 
and it was beginning to be monotonous, when, having 
completed the survey of the more distant objects in the 
room, he turned his attention to those nearer to him, and 
first of all to the desk at which he was sitting. Appar- 
ently it was one at which Mr. Kidley sometimes sat, for 
there were several letters addressed to him lying on it, 
and a partly- written one which he had probably been en- 
gaged in indicting when interrupted by the visitor now 
engaging his attention. 

As the reader is already well aware, Hogarth Oldmixon 
was altogether devoid of those conscientious scruples that 
prevent a man, even though sorely tempted, doing an 
unmanly action. The sentiment of honor, if it had ever 
had a lodgment in his breast, had vacated the tenement 
early in his career, and there had been no other feeling 
of a like character to take its place. He was governed 
altogether by the most complete and overpowering sel- 
fishness, and by no other emotion whatever. He looked 
closely at the papers lying on the desk, and at one end 
observed a little pile of letters that had probably been 
received by that morning's mail, as he noticed that several 
of them were still unopened. He glanced furtively at 



HOGABTH IS SATISFIED. 421 

lie boy and perceived that his head and face were entirely 
concealed by the literary production ho was reading. 
Then he moved his hand very quietly on the cloth -covered 
surface of the desk till it rested on the pile of letters. 
He had no distinct object in view in meddling with the 
letters, but he did have a faint, shadowy sort of an idea 
that by so doing he might effect something to his advan- 
tage, but what he could not for the life of him have told. 
To separate the letters so as to see the direction on each 
was an easy piece of work, and he did it without attracting 
the notice of the guardian of the room. They were all 
directed to " Theobald Eidley, Esq., Counsellor at Law,'' 
and in handwritings that he did not recognize, till he 
came to the very bottom one of all. Then he started, 
for he saw that that bore a superscription that he knew 
was written by his uncle. 

There was, of course, a good deal of risk to be incurred 
if he should determine to purloin that letter in order to 
make himself acquainted with its contents, and yet he had 
determined, on the very instant, that when he left that 
desk the letter should be in his pocket. There was no 
difficulty in stealing it. The boy was still intently en- 
gaged with his story paper, and all that Hogarth had to 
do was to keep his eyes fixed on the absorbed youth 
while his hand conveyed the coveted letter from the desk 
to the breast-pocket of his coat. Then he got up, walked 
several times across the floor, and finally asked the boy 
whether he thought Mr. Ridley would soon be disengaged, 
receiving an answer to the effect that he — the boy — did 
not know. How should he ? 

*^ Perhaps," said Hogarth, taking a visiting-card from 
his pocketbook, ^'if you were to take this to him, he 
might hurry a little. •' 



422 MB. 6LDMIXON. 

" He told me I wosnH to bring no cards to him," 
answered the boy. 

" Oh, he did I Then I suppose the visitor will be with 
him a long time." 

" I don't know abont that," rejoined the youth, evi- 
dently not pleased at being disturbed from his engrossing 
occupation of reading of the adventures of a prairie scout 
of blood-thirsty proclivities. * ^ Sometimes they stay long, 
and then again they don't." As the words were uttered, 
the bell from the inner office rang, and the boy quickly 
disappeared into the precincts of the apartment that 
Hogarth was longing to enter. 

He was back again in a moment, and, going to the desk 
at which Hogarth had been sitting, picked up the package 
of letters lying there, and again went into the rocmi in 
which were Mr. Ridley and his visitor. 

But his absence was of short duration, for he reappeared 
in a couple of minutes, and, with a look of anxiety on his 
face, looked carefully through all the papers lying on the 
desk. 

'^ Mr. Ridley says he hasn't got all the letters that 
came this morning," he remarked, as though speaking 
to no one in particular. '' I took him in eleven, and he 
says there were twelve. I don't see any other, and he 
says I've got to find it, or clear out and never show my 
face here again. I guess a boy can't find a letter when 
there ain't no letter to find." 

Hogarth began to feel that it was just possible that he 
had committed an act that was calculated to precipitate 
the impending catastrophe. He might, by a little skilful 
manoeuvring, have restored the letter to its place, or have 
let it drop on the floor, and then have pretended to find 
it, but he was of the opinion that it was essential for him 



HOGARTH IS SATISFIED. 433 

to know what his uncle waa, at that time, writing about 
to Mr. Ridley, and he knew, or at least thought he did, 
that although he might be suspected of having taken the 
letter, it would be impossible, unless he were searched, 
to connect him with its disappearance. 

But while the young man was overturning the papers 
on the desk and working himself into a fever of appre- 
hension, Mr. Kidley, impatient doubtless at the delay, 
came hastily out of his sanctum. 

'^ What's the reason — " 

But before he could get any further in his angry in- 
terrogatory, his eyes lighted on Hogarth, and a marked 
change immediately ensued in his countenance and man- 
ner. For a moment he stood irresolute, and then, while 
his face was flashed and he stammered a little in his 
speech, he addressed himself to his visitor. 

" 1 did not know that you were here, Mr. Oldmixon," 
he said, " I am very busy with a client, but I'll see you 
directly. A letter has been lost, but, fortunately, it's of 
no great consequence now*'* (with a decided accent on the 
** now "). *^ I don't like to miss things out of my office, 
for it gives rise to suspicions that may be unjust. No,' ' 
he continued, as he turned over every scrap of paper on 
the desk, ^^ it certainly is not here. Has anybody else 
been in this room ?" he went on, addressing the boy, 
whose looks expressed his fears more strongly than any 
words could have done. 

" No, sir, nobody's been here but that gentleman," 
indicating Hogarth by a nod of his head. " He was sit- 
ting at the desk just after he came in — ^" 

*' Yes," said Hogarth, speaking for the first time since 
Mr. Ridley's appearance, ** I was sitting at the desk, but 
I took no notice of anything on it. I saw your boy there 



424 KB. OLDKIXOK. 

come in and take something from it, but I donH even 
know whether it was a bundle of letters or an inkstand." 

"Of course not I of course not I How should you? 
Well, it isn't, as I said before, a matter of much conse- 
quence so far as the letter is concerned. I'll see jou in 
a few minutes, Mr. Oldmixon ;' ' so saying, Mr. Eidley 
returned to his inner room, and Hogarth felt that a load 
was taken from his mind. 

But if he had known who the client was that Mr. Bid- 
ley was giving so much of his time to, and the natnre of 
their conversation when the lawyer rejoined him, he 
would not only not have felt relief, but he would have 
experienced a decided aggravation of his uncomfortable 
sensations, for the person was no other than his uncle, 
and the ideas interchanged between the two gentlemen 
were not such as would have been reassuring to the 
nephew. 

** It's all explained," said Mr. Ridley, in a low voice, 
after carefully shutting the door behind him. " Who do 
you think is outside ¥ ' 

^'Hogarth, of course," replied Mr. Oldmixon, prompt- 
ly, " and he has the letter in his pocket." 

'^ Yes, I suppose he has. He was sitting at the desk, 
it appears, and doubtless saw it, and, surmising that it con- 
cerned him, he has purloined it with a view to reading it 
at his leisure. " 

'' What is to be done ?" 

*^ 1 don't see that we can do anything. His getting 
hold of the letter, while giving him no clear idea of your 
plans, will make him understand that there is or was apian 
of some kind. You are quite sure as to the contents ?" 

" Yes, I am certain that all I said was that 1 did not 
want any policemen, and that I did want the band." 



HOGAETH IS SATISFIED. 426 

** Well, I should think he would be Bomewhat thrown 
off his guard bj that, and would conclude that you had 
given the matter up, if, as you say, you have reason to 
believe that he has his suspicions of you.'* 

'' It may have that effect. It is well that I got here 
before him. He must have walked all the way down. 
He's come about the will, but in regard to that you need 
no further instructions. Now, I want to get away with- 
out being seen by him.'* 

*' You can do so by going through that end door. It 
opens on the hall near the elevator. As you close the 
door behind you I will ring for him." 

This was accomplished without any interference with 
the arrangement, and Hogarth entered the room at the 
ringing of the bell and took the seat that Mr. Bidley 
pointed out to him, and that had, not a minute before, 
been occupied by liis uncle. 

*^I am sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr, Old- 
mixon,*' said the lawyer, **but the matter was one of 
importance. 1 suppose you have brought me the draft 
of the new will that your uncle informs me he intends 
making.'* 

*^ Yes, he requested me to bring it to you several days 
ago, but I have not been very well, and was, therefore, 
unable to attend to it till to-day." 

As Hogarth spoke he handed the memorandum to Mr. 
Ridley, and the latter ran his eye over it rapidly. 

"This is very short," he said, laying it on the table 
before him and placing a paper weight on it, " and will 
require but an hour or two for its engrossing. Did your 
uncle say when he wanted to execute it ?" 

^^ He told me that he would like to have it as soon as 
possible." 

** 1 can send it to hira this afternoon, or, if you would 



426 VB. OLBinXON. 

like to be the medium for conveying to him the paper 
that makes yon his heir, I will have it ready for yon by 
two o'clock if yon will call here at that honr." 

^^ That will snit me very welL It is not yet quite one. 
I will amuse myself on the Batteiy till two, and then 
stop here on my way np-town. My uncle has a family 
dinner-party this evening, and perhaps he would like to 
execute the will at that time." Then bidding Mr. Rid- 
ley good-morning, Hogarth went out by the same door 
through which his uncle had departed. 

But instead of going to the Battery, as he had said was 
his intention, he stood on the sidewalk, apparently un- 
decided what to do with himself. He had his uncle's 
letter in his pocket, and he was desirous of seeing Miss 
Bangs, and, if possible, of making the acquaintance of die 
lady that might, he thought, in the course of events, be 
his wife. It was important for him to know how much 
she knew of Mr. Oldmixon's intentions, and, if she knew 
anything of them, what she purposed doing in regard 
thereto. It was not very far to Lake Street, so he con- 
cluded that he would go there in a cab, and read his un- 
cle's letter on the way. He did not recollect the num- 
ber of the house in which the girl lived, but he told the 
driver to take him to ^' a bird-stuflEer's, named Bangs, in 
Lake Street," not doubting that, as the street was a short 
one, the man would find the place. Ko sooner was he 
inside the vehicle than he drew down the blinds, and, tak- 
ing the stolen letter from his pocket, tore open the en- 
velope without hesitation and read as follows : 

*' Deab Ridley : I write in haste to countermand the 
order for policemen, but I shall want th"fe band. 
" Yours truly, 

^* ViCTOB CONSTANTINB OlDMIXON." 



HOGABTH IS SATISFIED. 427 

And this was all. 

But what did it mean ? He read it and reread it with- 
out being able to form a satisfactory idea of the purport 
of this note of less than three lines. Did it refer to him 
at all ? And if it did, in what manner ? Evidently, 
policemen had been ordered for some purpose, and they 
were not now required. Had his uncle contemplated 
causing his arrest, and had he subsequently abandoned 
the idea ? If it related to him at all, this was probably 
what it meant, and so far it was satisfactory. Perhaps 
his uncle had failed to get the evidence that he had 
thought he should be able to obtain, and had abandoned 
his warfare against him. This also struck him as being 
plausible, and was, therefore, a still more satisfactory con- 
clusion than the other. These two deductions seemed to 
him to dispose of the first clause of the letter. Before 
going on with the rest of it he suddenly opened the cab- 
door and called to the driver : 

" Never mind going to Lake Street," he said. "Go 
to the Fifth Avenue Hotel. 

^^ I shall not l^ve to think of Miss Bangs if he signs 
the new will," he said, as he threw himself back in the 
vehicle. " It will be time enough to take her up after 
to-night. I think I*m pretty safe for to-night. If he 
makes fresh war on me, I'll accept the other alternative 
before to-morrow morning. JSTow, let us see what the 
rest of this means : 

** ^ But I shall want the band,' " he read. *' What 
kind of a ' band ' will he want ? By George 1 if he were 
twenty-five instead of seventy-five I should think he was 
going to serenade a lady. Perhaps he is, after all, bent 
on some such expedition, or he may intend to have music 
for his dinner this evening. A * band ' for * policemen,' 



428 MB. OLDMIXON. 

however, is a good exchange. I don't see that this con- 
cerns me at all, so I think I can safely let it go without 
bothering myself abont it. '* 

When he drove np to the Fifth Avenue Hotel, he went 
into the bar-room and drank a *^ brandy and soda." 
Then he returned to Mr. Ridley's office. The clock on 
Trinity Church was just striking two as he entered the 
elevator. He did not see Mr. Ridley, that gentleman 
having gone out, so the boy said, to get his lunch. But 
a large envelope unclosed was handed to him, and this, 
as he ascertained, contained the will drawn up in due form, 
and with the attesting clause expressed in the terms re- 
quired by the laws of the State of New Tork. 

The morning had been a satisfactory one to him, all 
things considered. He had obtained some valuable in- 
formation, he had had no unpleasant experience with Mr. 
Ridley, and the new will, ready to be executed, was in 
his pocket. He took it out of the envelope as he drove 
up-town, the blinds of the cab still down, and read it 
over very carefully from beginning to end. It was in 
exact accordance with the memorandi^m given him by 
his uncle, and which he had delivered to Mr. Ridley— 
and, as he observed with pleasure, the date was filled in 
and it was that very day. Clearly, the will was intended 
to be executed before twelve o'clock that night. If his 
surmises should be fulfilled and he be made his uncle's 
heir, the old man should be a corpse before sunrise to- 
morrow. 



i 



CHAPTER XXIX. 

HOGABTH MAKES SEYEBAL DISCOYEBIES. 

At five minutes before six Mr. Oldmixon was pacing 
the floor of his drawing-room, dressed for dinner, and 
waiting to receive his gnests. He appeared to be in a 
particnlarl J pleasant frame of mind, for he smiled often, 
and rubbed his hands together, as was his habit when feel- 
ing pleasantly incUned, and looked at himself admiringly 
as he passed and repassed before the large mirror that 
was placed over the mantel-piece. At three minutes 
before six he went into the dining-room and surveyed 
with a critical eye the preparations that had been made 
for the dinner, and, if one could judge from the smile on 
his face, the arrangement of the table was satisfactory to 
him. He had, as was his custom, given great attention to 
the setting of the table, and to all those sesthetic acces- 
sories that add so much to the enjoyment of a dinner. 
He was to occupy the head of the table, Hogarth the 
foot, immediately opposite to him, Barbara was to be on 
his right, her father on his left, and Jack on Barbara's 
right. There was a wide space between Mr. Henschel 
and himself, and Mr. Henschel and Hogarth, but this he 
could not avoid without inviting another guest, and, as 
this was a family dinner, he did not care to introduce a 
stranger. He had thought of asking Mr. Brooks, but, 
after a full consideration of the subject, he had deter- 



430 MB. OLDIOXON. 

mined to confine the party to himself and the four per- 
sons that he had originallj invited. 

Mr. Oldmixon^s domestic service was not extensive, so 
he had for this occasion liired two men to officiate in con- 
junction with Thomas in the dining-room. They ap- 
peared to understand their business well, but they had 
probably been more or less tutored by Thomas, who was 
an experienced butler, understanding just how wines 
were to be served, and all the other details connected with 
an elaborate dinner. As r^arded table furniture, there 
were few in New York that could equal Mr. Oldmixon 
in the elegance and elaborateness of such equipments, 
his glass, china, silver, cutlery, linen, being costly and 
beautiful — two qualities which, in such things, do not 
always go together. 

There was to be only one lady at the table, and at her 
plate was laid a beautiful corsage bouquet of Jacque- 
minot roses, and a little morocco case containing a gold 
locket set with large diamonds on one side, and on the 
other marked with the letters B. and J., interlaced with 
the consummate skill of the engraver into a monogram 
that would have defied the abilities of all professional 
untiers, even of those who, like Alexander the Great and 
the Gordian knot, would have taken to the sword for its 
unravelling. For the more this knot should have been cut, 
the more difficult would have been its segregation. In- 
side, on one face, was engraved the sentence, " To Bar- 
bara from her Dncle (in anticipation) Victor," and on the 
other a canary-bird, an exact portraiture of the specimen 
Barbara had mounted for him, and underneath which 
were the words, " By their fruits ye shall know them." 

It must be confessed that the distinguished jeweller that 
took the order for this locket looked a little surprised at 




HOGABTH MAKES SEVERAL PISOOYEBIES. 431 

the directions given him, bat from politeness and policy 
refrained from saying a word or even offering a sugges- 
tion. 

Mr. Oldmixon had been at some pains to ascertain 
Barbara's floral favorites, and, being told by Jack that 
they were Jacqueminot roses and violets, had, in addition 
to the bouquet of roses, provided a large five-rayed star 
of violets, which occupied the centre of the table with 
a point reaching across to each guest's plate. 

It was six o'clock. Mr. Oldmixon, at the first stroke of 
the old Dutch clock that stood in the hall, repaired to the 
drawing-room to be in readiness to receive his guests. 
Hogarth was the first to arrive. He knew his uncle's 
strictness in regard to punctuality in arriving to a dinner, 
and this was a day on which he did not intend to annoy 
him in any way. He had often known his uncle, after 
waiting ten minutes for a dilatory person to put in an 
appearance, order dinner, with the remark that he 
wouldn't wait "longer than ten minutes for the a^gel 
Gabriel, if he was starving and had to blow his horn at 
daybreak ;" and then, to enjoy the confusion and awkward 
excuses of the procrastinator, " I made him feel uncom- 
fortable at any rate,' ' he would say, " so that we're square 
on that score." Hogarth had not seen his uncle since 
his return from his visit to Mr. Ridley, and had not yet, 
therefore, delivered the draft of the will. He now came 
forward, faultlessly iittired, with the document in his hand. 

"I went down to Ridley's this morning," he said, 
" with the rough draft that you gave me, and he was 
kind enough to have it engrossed so that I could present 
it to you this evening. But of course you will not care 
to bother over it now. Shall I lay it on your desk in the 
libkrary ?" 




432 MB. OLDMIXOir. 

"No, no, my dear boy, give it to me now," exclaimed 
Mr. Oldmixon, Iiolding put his band for tbe paper, and 
then running his eye over it, while Hogarth stood by, 
watching him closely. "It is all right," he continaed, 
" and to-night, after dinner, we'll all go into the library 
and I'll execute it. Then, my dear boy, I shall be more 
than ever attached to yon." 

" You are very kind, Uncle Victor, and 1 thank you 
sincerely ; but," looking at the clock on the mantel -piece, 
" is it not time for Jack and the other guests to put in an 
appearance ?" 

" Yes, and there they are," as the front-door bell was 
heard to ring. " Jenny (Jenny was one of the maids) 
will look after Miss Henschel. Now, Hogarth, my boy, 
I'm sure I need not ask you again to meet Jack half- 
way.' ' 

" You will have no reason to be dissatisfied with me, I 
thmk." 

A few minutes afterward the new arrivals entered the 
room, Barbara escorted by her father, and Jack bringing 
up the rear. 

Mr. Oldmixon had probably never in the whole course 
of his life been in a condition of greater pleasurable ex- 
citement than he was now. He went forward to meet 
his guests, and welcomed both Barbara and her father 
with as much grace and dignity as he would have done 
had they been a king and his daughter. After the first 
formal greetings and introductions, he spoke in more 
familiar strains, and then, on the appearance of Thomas 
with the announcement that dinner was readv, he offered 
his arm to Barbara to conduct her to the dining-room. 

Jack, on seeing Hogarth standing near his uncle, had 
gone toward him, and holding out his hand, said : 




HOGAETH MAKES SEVERAL DISCOVERIES. 433 

" How are you, Hogarth, old fellow?" 

The other took the proffered hand, and muttered a few 
words about being "glad to see you,'* or something of 
the kind, and then the two had entered into conversation 
upon indifferent subjects. All of which was very well. 
At such times the less that is said about bygones the 
better ; but a disinterested observer would have noticed 
that there was an absence of frankness in Hogarth's 
manner which all his efforts could not prevent his show- 
ing. As to Mr. Oldmixon, he had watched with the most 
intense interest the behavior of the two brothers in the 
presence of each other. 

*' Jack is a whole-souled, generous fellow," he said, 
**but the other is a mean, contemptible cad, who hasn't 
the magnanimity of a scullion." 

Hogarth had been watching his uncle as sharply as his 
uncle had been watching him, and he had not failed to 
notice the great impression that the new arrivals made 
on him. He saw him bow low before Mr. Henschelund 
his daughter, and observed with surprise the look of ad- 
miration on his face as he spoke a few courteous words to 
Barbara — for to his eyes she was not a beautiful woman. 
" She has red hair," he said, " and that is enough ; she 
must have the temper of the devil I Her figure is good, 
eyes fair, mouth and teeth not bad, skin clear and del- 
icate, holds herself well, is self-possessed, looks as though 
she had been accustomed to this sort of thing all her 
life, but probably dines on bacon and cabbage every day ; 
is dressed in excellent taste, neither too much nor too Ht- 
tle ; but, for all that, her hair is red, and so are her eye- 
brows. From all red-haired women the Lord deliver me I 
I wonder where Jack picked her up," he continued, as 

he brought up the rear of the procession to the dining- 
19 



434 MB. OLDKIXON. 

room. " He's welcome to her, for all I care ; shell tear 
his eyes out if he ventures to diflEer with her.'' 

By this time they had seated themselves at the table, 
and the gentlemen were putting their haiUonnieres in 
their places. Barbara, who was wearing a bouquet of 
violets that Jack had given her, put that of Jacquemi- 
not roses at the side of it, and was unrolling her nap- 
kin when she perceived the little morocco box that it had 
partially concealed. At first she did not appear to un- 
derstand why the casket should be there. She looked 
inquiringly at Mr. Oldmixon, and then at Jack, but their 
faces wore the blankest of expressions, and she saw that 
no information was to be obtained from them. Appar- 
ently making up her mind that it was there unintention- 
ally, or at least that it was not meant for her, she ceased 
to regard it, and turning to Mr. Oldmixon, comphmented 
him on the beauty of the table decorations. 

** I never saw anything more beautiful in the way of 
flowers," she said, " than that bed of violets ; and these 
roses," looking at the bouquet that she had fastened to 
her dress, "are simply lovely." 

"I am glad you hke them, for I got them to please 
you. Now," he continued, "won't you kindly open that 
box by your plate, and tell me if I have succeeded half 
so well with its contents as I have with the flowers ?" 

Barbara looked a httle surprised, but, at a glance 
from Jack, who had a pretty exact idea of his uncle's in- 
tention, she opened the case, and, while a blush of pleasure 
overspread her face, took the locket, to which a gold chain 
of elegant design was attached, out of its resting-place 
and held it in her hand admiringly. 

"It is a token of affection," said Mr. OldmixoD, 
" from your uncle that is to be." 



HOGABTH MAKES SSTEBAL PISGOVEBIES. 486 

"It is very beautiful," she said, "and I shall always 
prize it as a gift from one who has ever been kind to 
me." 

Mr. Oldmixon was in ecstasies. " Pass it around, my 
dear,*' he exclaimed. " Let Jack and Hogarth and your 
father see it." 

Jack admired it, and thanked his uncle warmly for his 
affectionate remembrance of the woman who in a few 
weeks would be his wife. Hogarth received it next 
as it went on its rounds. ]!7 either of the others had had 
time to open it, but Hogarth saw that it was very valua- 
ble, and the idea galled him, for he thought that the 
money spent for it had, as a matter of fact, been so 
much taken from his inheritance. 

" It must have cost at least a couple of thousand dol- 
lars," he said to himself, "and the old fool gives that 
splendid jewel to a girl that probably would have been 
just as well pleased with one of plain gold. The idea of 
giving diamonds to a woman of her class in life is ridic^ 
ulous." 

He opened it as he thought all this, and read the in- 
scription, then he examined the other inside face, and 
saw the bird engraved there, and the words around it. 
He recognized it as an exact representation, so far as the 
engraver could make it such, of the canary-bird of which 
his imcle was so careful. A deadly sickness came over 
him, and a paleness that could be felt overspread his 
countenance. He did not dare- to raise his eyes to those 
of his trnde, which he instinctively knew were fixed 
upon him with a malicious expression, that all their pos- 
sessor's power could not conceal. He could not even 
venture to speak lest the tone, or the hoarseness, or the 
tremor of his voice should betray him. He could only 




436 MR. OLDMIXOK. 

stretch out his hand with the locket toward Mr. Henschel^ 
and hear indistinctly, as though they came from a long 
distance off, the remarks made about the locket. 

It had gotten back to Barbara, and she was examining 
the interior. 

" It was very kind of you," she was saying, *^ to put 
the canary-bird where I could always have the opportu- 
nity of seeing it, and of being reminded of the occasion 
that first made us acquainted." 

Yes, his worst fears were realized. She was the 
*^bird-stuffer" to whom the money was to go, unless 
Jack married her, and he was going to inarry her and be- 
come the heir himself. There was no doubt now that 
he had been made a fool of, and that the will that he had 
had drafted and that his uncle now had in his pocket was 
intended to assist in a fraud then being perpetrated upon 
him. *' Yes," he thought, *^ in all probability the hypo- 
critical old scoundrel has originated the whole story 
about the Bangs girl with the idea of getting me entrap- 
ped into a marriage with her. He has doubtless put the 
notion of deceiving me into her head, and if I had gone 
to see her to-day I should have found her fully supplied 
with a set of well-concocted lies prepared for the direct 
purpose of victimizing me. 1 had a narrow escape of it ! 
But my hour is at hand, and then I shall show him as 
little mercy as he has shown me. 

*' As to his signing the will he has in his pocket, of 
course he will do nothing of the kind ; or, if he does, 
there will be a trick of some sort about it that will ren- 
der it invalid. 1 see no hope whatever of my being the 
heir. It is impossible. He has brought Jack and that 
girl here for the sole purpose of declaring him or her 
the inheritor of his estate, and at the same time to naor- 



HOGARTH MAKES SEVERAL DISCOVERIES. 437 

tify me. His death will do me no good except to rid me 
of a tormentor. It would onlj put them sooner in pos- 
session of the property." 

Hogarth was not the man to perpetrate a useless crime ; 
he recognized the fact that there was an element of dan- 
ger even in smothering his uncle in the dead of night. 
He saw how shrewd and apparently prepared for him on 
every point the old man was ; how lie had divined his 
thoughts, and met him at every turn of his career, since 
they two had lived under one roof. It was more than 
likely, therefore, that he had become aware of the murder- 
ous intentions of his nephew, and that he was so closely 
guarded that an attempt against his life would not only 
result in failure, but would be apt to be followed by the 
immediate arrest of the perpetrator. 

He sat through the dinner in a half -dazed state, talk- 
ing to no one, and replying in monosyllables and vaguely 
to the remarks that were occasionally addressed to him. 
He was aware that all present but himself were laughing 
and talking as though they were in the height of enjoy- 
ment. He heard his uncle, who seemed to be in an al- 
most abnormal condition of good-humor and merriment, 
explaining several of the dishes to Barbara and descant- 
ing on their delicacy and rarity. To him eveiything 
was tasteless, but he swallowed great draughts of wine, 
and after a tjme the effect was felt in a diminution of his 
fears and an increase of his perceptive and intellectual 
powers. 

He was very confident that his uncle had some scheme 
in view in having him meet Jack and Barbara, and he 
was well aware of the fact that he should need all his 
powers of resistance and of attack in order to maintain 
himself in the contest that was impending. He thought 



V ♦ » . '■ • 



ij 



438 MR. OLDMIXOlir. 

• 

serionslj of getting up from the table without ceremony 
or excuse, and walking deliberately ont of the room, never 
again to make his appearance in the house, or, indeed, any- 
where where he would be liable to meet any one now at the 
table ; for he felt quite convinced that he had nothing to 
his advantage to expect from his uncle. But even this at- 
tempt he all at once became aware would not probably be 
successful, for, happening to raise his eyes, he saw one of 
the waiters exchanging glances with Mr. 01dmixon,and he 
at once formed the idea that both of them were detectives, 
and that they would stop him before he could leave the 
house. 

This idea, once it had found a place in his mind, dis- 
turbed him greatly, and caused him to watch the two men, 
who were apparently skilled in the business of serving an 
elaborate dinner. The face of one of them seemed to be 
familiar to him. *' Where had he seen it before ?" he 
asked himself. He scanned it closely, but he did not 
readily associate it with that of any particular person or 
event. But suddenly the idea flashed upon him that it 
was that of the cabman who had driven him that morning 
when he had started from Mr. Ridley's office to go to see 
Miss Bangs, and had, after reading the stolen letter, 
changed his destination to the Fifth Avenue Hotel — ^the 
same man who had subsequently driven him home. He 
had done a good deal to change his countenance. He had 
shaven off his beard, or had, perhaps, only removed his 
false whiskers. He had made his face look much paler 
than it had appeared in the morning, and he had altered 
the cut of his hair, but, for all these differences, he was 
sure these two men were the same. 

Had the fellow seen him reading the purloined letter ? 
/'My God," he exclaimed, under his breath, " where is 



rf • . 



*^ 



\. 1 . 



HOaARTH MAKES SEVERAL DISCOVERIES. 439 

the letter ? Did 1 leave it in the cab ? Yes, I laid it on 
the seat while 1 lit a cigar, and I never touched it after- 
ward. That man took it, and my uncle probably has it 
in his pocket at this instant t^' 

He knew that he had committed an offence against the 
laws of the United States that subjected him to a long 
term of imprisonment, and he did not doubt that the two 
men were there disguised as waiters for the express pur- 
pose, on a single word from his uncle, of arresting him 
and taking him to Ludlow Street Jail, there to await his 
trial on the charge of stealing and opening a letter not 
addressed to him. Still, what could he do ? There was 
nothing for him to do but await developments. He was 
in the toils of his implacable enemy, and he knew that 
when the explosion came there would be no mercy. 

He gave some attention to what was being said in the 
hope that there might be something let drop by his un- 
cle that would give him an inkling of what was to come, 
but the old gentlenlan was apparently thinking of very 
different affairs than those that occupied Hogarth's mind. 
He was telling Barbara of the origin of the Oldmixon 
family. 

** Yes, we are certainly distinguished," he said, with a 
hearty laugh. " 1 think I once told you something about 
our origin. The founder of the family was a reprobate 
called Nick. He began life by robbing a church when 
he was only sixteen years old. For this he was tried, 
found guilty, and sentenced to be burned at the stake. 
But while he was being conveyed to the place of execution, 
he broke loose from the guard, and, after running nearly 
a mile with soldiers, monks, and all the rag-tag and bob- 
tail of the towu after him, he plunged into the sea and 
swam out to a vessel lying at anchor half a mile from the 



440 MB. OLDMIXOir. 

shore. They were all afraid to follow him, and thus he es- 
caped. The vessel was a noted pirate, and, after a short 
time, Nick became the captain of the vessel.'' 

" How lon^ ago was that ?" inquired Barbara, amnsed 
as much at Mr. Oldmixon's delight as at the story itself. 

" Well, let me see — that mnst have been in the year 
989, daring the reign of Ethelred, the last of the English 
kings, before the final Danish invasion. Wasn't it. 
Jack?" 

^' Don't ask me,'* answered Jack, with a laugh, "I 
don't pretend to your antiquarian knowledge of the Old- 
mixons." 

*'But, to goon," resumed Mr. Oldmixon, *^Nick be- 
came a great pirate, or viking, as perhaps he was called in 
that day, and after he had advanced in years he was of 
course called ^ Old Nick.' When he got to be too old to 
steal anything more as a pirate, he settled down on an es- 
tate that he bought with his plunder and set up as a re- 
former. I may, by way of parenth^is, remark that the 
hke process goes on in our day very often. 

'' But, although he built an abbey and endowed it with 
a vast property, he always went by the name of ^ Old 
Nick,' and a son that he had was designated ^ Old Nick's 
son.' This son killed his father, and was altogether one 
of the most diabolical of the family. Being rich, how- 
ever, he wasabletobuy immunity from punishment both 
in this world and in the world to come. He was at the 
same time very pious, and somehow or other became a 
mitred abbot. It wouldn't of course do for a mitred ab- 
bot to go by the name of * Old Nick's son.' It was too 
infernally suggestive of his devilish traits, so he changed 
the name to Oldmixon, and by that cognomen we have 
been known ever since." 




HOGAETH MAKES SEVEBAL DISCOVERIES. 441 

Everybody but Hogarth laughed at this apocryphal 
narration. He tried to smile, but the effect was a sickly 
one, and he gave up the attempt before the angles of his 
mouth had begun to expand. 

It was impossible at such a small dinner-party as that 
for there to be any private conversation. Barbara could 
not, therefore, tell Jack what she thought of his brother, 
and perhaps she would not have told him had she been 
afforded every opportunity for so doing, for she did not 
like him. She liked neither his appearance nor his man- 
ners. "With a woman's quick intuitions she saw that there 
was something preying on his mind— something that en- 
grossed his attention to the exclusion of everything else, 
and that filled him with a fear that he could not conceal. 

The dinner had nearly come to an end, and Mr. Old- 
mixon, to Barbara's great satisfaction, had made no at- 
tack on Hogarth. Indeed, he had scarcely spoken to him 
during the repast, beyond occasionally asking him his 
opinion of a dish or a wine, and then always addressing 
him as *^ My dear boy,'' or '* My dear Hogarth." 

But while the coffee was being handed, Mr. Oldmixon 
seemed to awaken to the consciousness of Hogarth's 
presence, and to the fact that he had scarcely done his 
part toward making the evening pass pleasantly. He 
sat right opposite to his uncle, and the latter, as he sipped 
his coffee, looked at him with the most pleasant expres- 
sion imaginable on his face. 

'' What has made you so silent, my dear boy ?" he said. 
" One would think, from your lugubrious expression and 
melancholic manner, that you were about to be led out to 
execution. Let me see," he continued, in a meditative 
way, " the last Oldmixon executed was Sir Guy, who, un- 
fortunately, took it into his head to poison his wife. He 

19» 



442 HB. OLBKIXON. 

used arsenic for the pnrpose/and of course the chemists 
and doctors discovered it, and Sir Guy was hanged in 
chains. We know better nowadays. When we want to 
kill our wives we don't poison — ^we — we,'' hesitating and 
looking smilingly at Hogarth, ^^ we employ some method 
not so likely to lead to detection. !Now, if I had a wife 
that 1 wanted to get rid of, I'd smo^" He checked him- 
self suddenly and said, ^^have her struck by light- 
ning.'' 

" Struck by lightning 1" said Hogarth, who had no- 
ticed the break in the word " smother," but who, think- 
ing that his uncle had stopped out of consideration for 
him, was desirous of keeping him in that vein. " How 
could you accomplish that ? Suppose ypu tell us," he add- 
ed, with a degree of recklessness that he was sorry for ere 
many seconds had passed, " for Jack's benefit. He's the 
only one here likely to require the knowledge." 

Mr. Oldmixon at these latter words seemed to be upon 
the point of losing whatever of self-restraint he had been 
exercising during the dinner, and of bursting out into 
some passionate speech against Hogarth. His i*ed face 
became still redder, his eyes glared, his mouth twitched, 
and he seemed to be trying to speak, and yet to be unable 
to utter a word. At last, however, he appeared to have 
obtained sufficient control of himself to go on with the 
conversation, though it had evidently been a hard struggle, 
and his voice trembled at first with the effort that he 
made to appear calm. 

" Jack, my dear Hogarth," he said, " will never need 
any method of getting rid of a wife, for you see he is not 
an Oldmixon so far as his character and disposition are 
concerned. Indeed, in his mental organization he takes 
after his mother, who wa6 a veiy excellent and sensible 




HOGAETH MAKES SEVEBAL DISC0VEBIE8. 443 

woman, altogether too good for the man whose wife she 



was." 



" Thank yon, Uncle Victor," said Jack, with feeling. 
Barbara gave him a look of thankfulness. Hogarth, be- 
ginning now to perceive that he had precipitated matters, 
looked as black as a thnnder-clond. 

" But you, my dear boy," continned Mr. Oldmixon, 
*^ thongh yon have no further nse for any wife-ridding 
process, may, perhaps, in your future career marry again — 
though 1 am free to say that I think that contingency 
very remote — and it is therefore just possible that if, only 
npon the principle that variety is as well the spice of 
death as it is of life, yon may find the procedure I have 
in mind not only simple but effectual." 

Hogarth laughed long and loudly at this speech, but it 
was easy to see that his laughter was forced. He had de- 
termined to brave the matter through to the end, and to 
force his uncle once and for all to show his cards and 
play his game. He began to suspect that, after all, there 
was more guessing than knowledge. 

" One would think," he said, still laughing, " that you 
were accusing me of having gotten rid of my wife by 
some easy process. It is well for me that all those that 
hear you are friends, otherwise 1 could scarcely hope to 
escape suspicion. However, you scarcely intended what 
your words seemed to imply. So, by all means tell us 
your quick and easy process for getting rid of a wife." 

/' Ah, my dear boy, I thought 1 should at last interest 
you ; but come," he added, looking around the table, " we 
have finished dinner. Let us go into the library, where I 
have a little business to transact, and some selections from 
my novel to read, and where, if my dear Barbara does not 
object, the gentlemen can smoke their cigars. Come 1" 



444 KB. OLDHIXOTf. 

" I hope yon will excuse me, Uncle Victor,'* said Ho- 
garth, thinking that here might be an opportunity for es- 
cape, " I am not feeling very well." 

"No, 1 cannot excuse you, for the business mainly 
concerns you, my dear boy. This paper requires to be 
executed," taking, as he spoke, the draft of the will from 
his pocket. "You will have to come." He said these 
last words very emphatically, and with his eyes fixed on 
Hogarth. 

Hogarth looked around him. The two detectives of- 
ficiating as waiters were not present ; doubtless they were 
stationed so as to arrest him, should he attempt to leave 
the company. " Very well !" he said, with some des- 
peration in his voice, " 1 have no objection. Perhaps I 
can stand not only your process, but even your novel." 

It was a challenge, and so Mr. Oldmixon regarded it. 
" Thanks, my dear boy. • Ton are veiy kind. Come !" 
and then, giving his arm to Barbara, he escorted her to 
the library, the rest following, and the two strange waiters 
— as Hogarth, who looked behind him, ascertained — 
watching them from the dining-room, into which they 
had entered as the others left it. 

" The dinner is over now," said Mr. Oldmixon to Bar- 
bara. ' ^ 1 think you will admit that 1 have kept my prom- 
ise as well as was possible under the circumstances. But 
for God's sake don't interfere with me further !" 

She did not know what to think. She was sure a ca- 
tastrophe of some kind was impending, and yet she was 
powerless to interfere without probably making matters 
worse. She looked imploringly at him, but he turned 
away his face, unwilling or unable to meet her appeal. 



CHAPTEE XXX. 



"the bogub's mabch." 



^'Now," said Mr. Oldmixon, S^J^Jy after they were 
all seated, and the geDtlemen had, with Barbara's per- 
mission, lighted their cigars, " first let me tell you how to 
get rid of a wife that you are tired of. You may laugh, " 
he continued, smiling at the looks of merriment he saw 
about him — for even Hogarth was laughing — ^' but it's a 
serious matter. It's a process that never fails. You 
must have her struck by lightning." 

" So you told us just now. Uncle," said Hogarth, *' but 
the process must be rather difficult to carry out. You 
might, to be sure, invite her to climb one of those tall 
poles in the street, and touch the wire, but not many 
wives are endowed with sufficient strength and agility to 
do that. Your plan would require a previous education 
in gymnastics that few women are likely to have. Now, 
there, for instance, is Miss Henschel — " 

"Now, my dear Hogarth, for Heaven's sake," said 
Mr. Oldmixon, with both hands raised in a deprecating 
manner, " don't bring Miss Henschel into this discussion. 
1 admit once and for all that your experience with wives 
is sufficient to give you some idea of their strength and 
agility, but my plan requires no such acrobatic feat as 
climbing an electric lamp-pole. It is much simpler. 

** 1 was once in the city of Merida, in Yucatan," he 
went on, having succeeded in silencing Hogarth, " when 



446 HB. OLBMIXOK. 

the Alcalde, standing in the doorway of his palace talking 
to me, saw his wife — an American woman, by the by, 
and not disposed to submit to marital restraint— curveting 
around the plaza on a wild mustang that she was endeav- 
oring to break. He called to her to stop, but she paid 
no attention to him, save by smiling defiantly at him, as, 
in making the circuit of the plaza, she came repeatedly 
near to where we were standing. 

" * 1 wish he would throw you,' said her husband. 
But he did not, and the lady continued to smile. 

" * 1 wish the ground would open and swallow you up 1 ' 
exclaimed the angry husband, the next time she came 
round. Still the lady smiled, and the ground did not 
open. 

^' Then he wished that the devil and all his demons 
would fly away with hen But it is needless to say that 
they didn't. Probably they were otherwise engaged, or 
maybe he was not sufficiently influential with his Satanic 
majesty. Had he been an Oldmixon, now, he could have 
raised the devil without much trouble. 

'' It was a clear day. The sun was shining in all the 
fervid heat and glare of the tropics, and there was not a 
cloud as large as a man's hand to be seen anywhere. My 
friend, the Alcalde, had not succeeded in arresting the 
circus-like performance of his wife, who, with even if 
possible greater speed than before, was rushing around 
the plaza. On she came like an Amazon, her horse's 
mane and tail streaming in the wind, and her whole soul 
bent to the excitement of the occasion. As she came 
opposite to us, and scarcely twenty feet distant, she turned 
and smiled defiantly at her husband. 

"*I wish the lightning would strike you dead!' he 
ezdalmed, furiously. The words were scarcely out of 




"THE BOGUB^S MARCH." 447 

his month when there was a blinding flash, a terrific peal, 
and the wife lay on the gronnd, while the mnstang swept 
like a whirlwind around the plaza, apparently nninjored. 
She was dead, and her husband had killed her." 

*' It is horrible I" said Barbara, covering her face with 
her hands, '' bnt of course it was a mere coincidence." 

"1 think not," remarked Mr. Oldmixon, calmly. 
" It has succeeded every time, to my knowledge, that it 
has been tried." 

"But how of ten has it been tried?" inquired Jack, 
laughingly. 

"Once, only once," answered his uncle, "but then 
see what chances there were against its success, and how 
can you doubt that the imprecation and the death bore 
to each other the relation of cause and effect ? I have 
been several times on the point of trying it against people 
that disgusted me, but there's always been something to 
prevent me. I would have tried it on that fellow that 
put currant jelly on canvas-back duck, only 1 didn't 
want to make a scene at the club. Besides, it might be 
dangerous to others, unless employed out in the open 
air, and in a house would probably ruin the furniture. 
Then, again, it must be a horrid thing to have a person's 
death on your mind. And perhaps, after all, it is only 
efficacious against wives." 

"Yes," said Jack, "all the conditions must be ob- 
served ; in which case the wife would have to be riding 
around a plaza on a wild mustang.' ' 

Hogarth had made no remark at the end of the story, 
except an exclamation that sounded something like 
"bosh," and that was probably intended to intimate his 
belief that the whole recital was a fabrication of his un- 
cle's. Whether the story were true or not, Mr. Old- 



448 MB. OLDMIXOK. 

mixon. did not deign to say. It had served his pur- 
pose of introdacing the subject of the killing of wives, 
and of showing that Hogarth's nerves were strong 
enough, except when his own particular method was 
referred to. 

*^Now," he continued, after going to his desk and 
laying the draft of the new will on the table, *' I pro- 
pose to carry out the plan, my dear Hogarth, that we 
were talking about this afternoon. Will you kindly 
ring the bell ?" 

Hogarth did as he was requested, and almost instant- 
ly the two waiters made their appearance. 

"I want you to witness a document," said Mr. Old- 
mixon. ^' This," he continued, ^' is my last will and tes- 
tament ; as you see, I sign it," writing his name as he 
spoke. "Now, will you kindly sign here?" indicat- 
ing with his finger the place where he "wished them 
to put their signatures. *' Thanks !" as they affixed 
their names ; '' I think that makes the paper complete." 
Then, speaking a few words in a low tone to one of the 
men, he signified to them that their presence was no 
longer required, and they left the room. 

''My dear Hogarth," he resumed, ''I trust you may 
live long to enjoy the fortune that is here bequeathed to 
you. 1 do not expect to cumber the earth much longer, 
so that it isn't likely that you will be kept out of the 
estate for any considerable period. I suppose you might. 
as well keep this, as it concerns you more than it does me or 
any one else." With which words he handed the paper to 
Hogarth. '' Now, if you please," he continued, '' 1 will 
read you a few extracts from my novel ;" and turning to 
his desk, he took out of a compartment a manuscript, of 
which he at once proceeded to turn over the leaves, ap- 



**THE BOaUE^S MABCH." 449 

parently with the view of selecting the parts that he 
especially desired to bring to the notice of his guests. 

Hogarth had taken the will, but, without looking at it, 
and without one word of thanks or of anything else to 
his uncle, had laid it on the mantel-piece near where he 
was sitting. Indeed, as though divining that something 
of a serious nature was impending over him, he had be- 
come as livid as a ghost, and apparently so overcome with 
terror that he shivered as if suflEering from an ague 
attack. As to Jack and Barbara, nothing could have 
been more unpleasant than their situation, for they also 
were quite sure that Mr. Oldmixon had some plan that 
he was carrying out as a finality in the matter of his con- 
test with Hogarth, and that the denouement^ when it 
came, would be of such a character as to render their po- 
sition still more embarrassing. Mr. Henschel was ap- 
parently unaware that there was any "reading between 
the lines" going on. He thought it singular that Mr. 
Oldmixon had changed his mind in regard to his will, 
for he had supposed that Jack was going to receive the 
bulk of the estate, but from the placid manner that his 
son-in-law in expectancy took the matter, he supposed 
that some compensation had been, in some way or other, 
provided, and that the principles of justice had not been 
violated. 

After some little delay, and after repeatedly looking at 
the clock that stood on the desk, Mr. Oldmixon found 
the part that he was looking for, and, amid the most 
complete silence, began to speak : 

"I must premise, "^ he said, "by stating that lam 
going to read only a single scene from my book. It is 
one, however, that will give you some idea of my style 
and powers of description, and I think may be taken as 



450 HB. OLBMIXOK. 

a sample of the whole book.''* Again looking at the 
clock, he read : 

*' ' Hugo was a man in whose X)erson were nnited most 
of the vices that in general are only met with in many 
men. He was, as it were, a microcosm of diabolism, and 
to offset his plenitnde of wickedness there was not one 
single redeeming virtue. In early life he had shown 
the inherent depravity of his character by torturing all 
the animals that came in his way and that it was safe 
for him to attack, for with all his cruelty he was coward- 
ly to such a degree that it often happened that boys and 
men weaker than himself thrashed him for some insult or 
outrage that he had perpetrated while he, like " the poor 
craven bridegroom, said never a word. " 

" * It argues little for the existence of that keenness of 
perception with which women are said to be endowedj 
that a man like Hugo should have been able to win the 
affections of a woman the opposite of himself in all men- 
tal qualities. But so it was. Certainly he could only 
have done so by assuming virtues that he did not possess. 
As we shall see hereafter, it was no imusual thing for him 
to take upon himself the livery of heaven while diligent- 
ly engaged in serving his master the devil.* 

That,' ' he contiimed, laying down his manuscript, 

will serve as an introduction of the two principal char- 
acters of the work ; of course there is a good deal more in 
regard to them, but I refrain from reading it now, being 
desirous of bringing up at once one of the principal in- 
cidents, if not the chief one of the storv. 

^' Hugo and Cecilia were married and left soon after 
the ceremony on their wedding-tour, and, in the course of 
it, they arrived, late one evening, at the little city of 
Acropolis. They did not do much sight-seeing that 



(( 
(( 



"the EOGXnE'S MARCH." 451 

night, and the next day the raiu poured down in torrents, 
so that they were confined to their rooms in the hotel. 
Now we resume the narrative : 

'^ * It was not a large room in which Hugo and Cecilia 
were spending the afternoon, but it was comfortable, and 
fitted up in a manner a little better than that usually 
followed in the hotels of country towns. Adjoining it 
was the bedroom ; a door communicating between the 
two was open. 

" ^ He was already beginning to weary of her, and per- 
haps she had discovered that he was not the paragon of per- 
fection that she had taken him to be. She was sitting 
in a low rocking-chair, while he stood with his back to 
her, looking out of the window at the rain, as it filled the 
gutters and rushed down the steep incline of the street 
with almost the force of a mountain torrent. He had 
said many bitter things to her that afternoon, and, more- 
over, she had detected him m several of the lies that he 
had told while wooing her, so that the feeling be- 
tween them was very far from being of that kind that 
generally exists, at least through the honeymoon. Some- 
thing that she said appeared to rouse all the evil passions 
that were slumbering in his breast, for suddenly he turned 
upon her, and with an expression upon his face that the 
arch-fiend of hell might have envied, he seized her — "' 

*^ Stop !' * cried Hogarth, rising from the chair on which 
he was sitting, and coming into the middle of the room. 
** By some means or other, aided, perhaps, by that demon 
that you say I am like, you know that I killed my 
wife — " 

" Ah, you confess it then, murderer !" exclaimed Mr. 
Oldmixon, jumping up also, and meeting his nephew half 
way, till they stood not three feet apart, confronting each 




■•■-.'■■ *^--». A- ^. _. ^j 



452 HR. OLDMIXON. 

other. " I thought I should torture you into revealing 
your crime, and at last my hope is realized." 

" Yes ; 1 carried her into the next room, threw her on 
the bed, and smothered her to death with a pillow.'* 

" My God !" exclaimed Barbara and Jack in a breath, 
while Mr. Henschel, looking horror-stricken, could only 
mutter a few inarticulate expressions. 

"I knew it !" cried Mr. Oldmixon, excitedly. " The 
wretch confesses ! He smothered her 1 Oh, double-dyed 
villain that you are, why the great God does not strike 
you dead as you stand there is a mystery to me 1 Liar, 
swindler, murderer, thief !" As he uttered this last word 
he threw the purloined letter on the floor before his cow- 
ering nephew. '* For some inscrutable reason of His own, 
God sees fit to let you live till such time as He shall put 
it into your heart to take yourself out of this world ; and 
may He do it speedily ! Go I" he continued, while all the 
rest of the company were standing horrified at the awful 
scene before them. " Go, wretch, basilisk, whose very 
look chills the marrow in the bones of honest men. If 
by the rising of to-morrow's sun your apology for a soul 
inhabits your vile body, the hangman shall separate them. " 

Hogarth heard all this with head bowed, and eyes 
closed, and trembling in body and limb. Barbara, un- 
able longer to endure the agony of the situation, had fallen 
upon the sofa, and was being ministered to by Jack and 
her father. She was sobbing hysterically, and the two men 
were on their knees before her, oblivious now of what 
was passing between Hogarth and Mr. Oldmixon, who 
still stood, the one with bowed head, the other with 
form erect, eyes flashing, lips compressed, breathing 
hurriedly, and with one arm extended toward the door. 

*' You meant to smother me to-m'ght as you smothered 




"the eoque's march." 



463 



your wife," cried Mr. Oldmixon, still pointing toward 
the door. " Will you go ?" 

Without a word further, Hogarth moved slowly toward 
the door; as he reached it, he raised his head. ''My 
God !" he exclaimed, " that face again !" As his hand 
rested on the knob, and the door opened to allow him to 
pass, Mr. Oldmixon stepped back and touched a little 
white button that, fastened to a wire covered with silk, 
lay on the desk. Instantly a band of musicians, stationed 
somewhere outside, began to play. 




>M. 



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J I ^ 



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■tiss^ 



I U \ r- 



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< 1 "4 



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S-i-9-± 






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XB. OLDKIZOIT. 



^=^W* ' 1^^^^ 





It was the ^^ Rogue's Marcli *' to whicli Hogarth slnnk 
out of his uncle's house uninterfered with, according to 
their instructions, by those that watched his departure. 
He stood on the porch for an instant, and then, hastily 
descending the steps, walked rapidly toward the North 
River. 

The music ceased, and Mr. Oldmixon, overcome by the 
excitement and exertion, dropped panting into a chair. 
Barbara was better, and Jack, seeing that his uncle was 
overpowered by the force of the event that had taken 
place, hurried to see if assistance was required. Mr. 
Oldmixon held out his hand. 

" My dear boy," he gasped, " I'm afraid this has been 
a little too much for me. My nitrite of amyl 1" Jack 
felt in his uncle's waistcoat pocket, but did not find it. 

** I left it in my other waistcoat when I changed my 
clothes for dinuer," said Mr. Oldmixon, feebly. Jack 
was off in an iustant to get it. *' Barbara, my dear, come 
here, kneel here by my side," as she approached him with 
streaming eyes and clasped hands. "I'm sorry, dear, 
that I had to give you pain, but I could not help it. 



"the eogue's maech.'^ 456 

"We're a bad lot, my dear, all but Jack. He'll be kind to 
you, for he's a good, manly fellow, and — and you'll be — " 
speaking with greater difficulty — " very happy. My time 
has come. I know it, for things are beginning to look 
strange and — and — don't put out the lights !" he ex- 
claimed, with more strength. "No, no, never mind ; it 
is getting dark to me, that's all. A nice dinner party I 
A very nice dinner party ! No one but a lunatic would 
have acted as I did. Ah, Jack," as his nephew returned 
with the nitrite of amyl and held the vial to his nostrils, 
"it's very little use to me now. Hand me that paper 
that the basilisk left on the mantel-piece. By George ! I 
can see once more ! The amyl did some good, after all. 
Open it. Jack. It's only a piece of blank paper. I had 
to pretend it was a will, or the fellow would have left 
before I got through with him. My poor child," turning 
to Barbara, " how I did shock and grieve you ! But I 
couldn't help it, dear. It had to be done, and I had to 
do it — I had to do it. That band and the * Rogue's March' I 
Quitis original 1 Not another man in the world would 
have thought of such a thing. The basilisk I What did 
I tell you. Jack ? I said the weasel would finish him, 
didn't I?" 

The last words were spoken in so low a tone that Jack 
and Barbara, who were kneeling at the side of the chair, 
could scarcely hear them. The nitrite of amyl appeared 
to have lost its power, or rather the old man had lost his 
power to breathe it into his lungs, and he lay back in the 
chair, gasping in quick and short inspirations for the air 
that was all around him, but which he was unable to get. 
Then suddenly his face flushed as a candle, just before it 
dies out, brightens into a little flash of life. 

" Give me your hand, dear," he said, in a clear and 



466 MB. OLBHIXOir. 

distinct voice. ^^ A good girl I a good girl ! There are 
not many things in this world better than a good woman. 
It's all right about the will. You and Jack — Ridley has 
it — Look at me ! I want to see yoar face the last thing 
on earth. Pm sorry I did it, but I had to do it — ^band 
and all — I had to doit. Ah!" he continued, as, with 
his eyes fixed upon the door, he raised himself a little in 
the chair, ^^ I see him. The death look is in his face. 
Be is going toward the river, and she — she beckons him 
on. Camilla I In a few minutes you will be avenged. 
His life for yours ! His life jfor yours ! But I shall 
not live to see it. No — no," as he sank back, speak- 
ing scarcely above a whisper, and in a despairing tone. 
" 1 shall not live — quite — ^long — enough — ^" Once more 
he turned to Barbara : " My dear, God bless — !" His 
eyes closed, his jaw fell, a little twitching of the comers 
of the mouth caused an expression that was almost a 
smile, and his head fell forward on his breast. 

" Oh, Jack !" cried Barbara, throwing herself into his 
arms, and sobbing as though her heart would break, ^'he 
is dead !" 

" Yes, dear, he is dead. God give him peace I" 



THE Em). 



DR. HAMMOND'S NOVELS. 



L A L. 

A Novel. 

By dr. WILLIAM A. HAMMOND. 



SIXTH EDITION NOW BEADT. 



SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 



ONE OPINION. 



tt 



* Lai/ the heroine of Dr. W. A. Hammond^s story (Appleton), is short for 
Lalla Rookh. The shortened name carries to the ears an impression which the 
book confirms. A more disagreeable book to one who loves art it wonid be hard 
to find. The yeneer of philosophy which coyers the cheap material ont of which 
the book is constructed only makes the novel more objectionable. Every canon 
of good taste is violated, and one has not even a piece of rongh humanity to fall 
back upon. The book is a piece of artistic folsehood."— J UanUc MorUfUy. 

OTHER AND DIFFERENT OPINIONS. 

*' The unfolding of the character and conscience, the taste and intelligence, of 
this fh>ntier wild flower, the brutal ordeals to which she is subjected, and from 
which she extricates herself unharmed by her own pluck and energy, the blos- 
soming of her love for the hero of the tale, and the discovery that she was not 
the child of the ruffian Bosler, but had been stolen by him in infitncy firom parents 
of great refinement and intelligence, are woven into a romance of genuine but 
unequal power, and in which, besides this growth of a soul and birth of love, are 
also depicted some dramatic scenes of far Western life, illustrative of its lawless- 
ness and sense of honor, its flerceness and gentleness, its strange commingling 
of vices and virtues, its hospitality, generosity, and quick recognition of physical 
or intellectual excellence.'*— ^aT^er'^ New MonUdy Magazine. 

LOTKEQ 



DR. HAMMOND'S NOVELS 



^ 



** The wildnets of the monntainB, the startling depravities of the miniog-camp, 
the savage cmelty of man, the terror of private vengeance— it is with themes like 
these that Dr. Hammond mingles the tend^ness of women^s hearts, the heroism 
of personal courage and chivalrous devotion to daty, and the eccentricities of 
genios devoted to high intellectnal and social ends/^— Xi/«rary World (Boston). 

" The comprehension of the trials and temptations of Western roughs, of their 
Bingalar intellectual ahllity when it comes to circumventing each other, of their 
remarkable codes of honor, and the way in which they deceive their own con* 
sciences, as well as their friends aod enemies, betrays a remarkable knowledge 
of human nature. We have here aU the good points we have been taught to 
associate with this roughest sort of life."— CW^ (New York). 

** It possesses the great merit of being interesting from beginning to end. 
The characters are striking, and several of them have an element of originality; 
the incidents are abundant and effective ; the situations are well devised, and, if 
there is not much intricacy in the plot, there is a certain bustle and rapidity of 
movement which answers instead of more complicated machinery. Here, it will 
be seen, are some of the most important qualities of a good story ; and we risk 
nothing in predicting for * Lai * a notable success."— i\r«r York Tribune, 

" Dr. William A. Hammond's * Lai *. is at once an enjoyment and a surprise 
—though why an eminent physician, and one of broad culture and literary attain- 
ments, should not write a vigorous and successful novel if he sets his band and 
mind to it is more than we can say, except that many have been called but few 
shown themselves chosen. The wild surroundings of mountain and mining life 
in the West are boldly gathered about Dr. Hammond's heroine, and the Polish 
patriot, representing the refining influences of European civilization, is brought 
into fine relief in his isolation amid such savage scenery and semi-savage exist- 
ence.^''— Independent. 

" The scenes in ' Lai ' suo;gest the scenes in Bret Harte's stories. Dr. Ham- 
mond has journeyed through the country where Harte found his rough-diamond 
heroes. He has done more than journey through it ; he has lived in it, suffered 
its hardships, studied its characters, and acquainted himself with all its pict- 
uresque oddities. He writes, therefore, Trom. his own point of view, and it is 
quite true that his point of view is his own. His method is in no sense imita- 
tive. Dr. Hammond is too aggressive and too brilliantly able to be an imitator, 
even when he is- treading on the ground of another. *Lar is a vigorous, well- 
written, stimulating work."— Geoegb EdqabIIontqomebt, in New York World, 



12mo, cloth. Price, $1.80. 
New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 3, & 5 Bond Street. 



DR. HAMMOND'S NOVELS. 



DR. GRATTAN. 

A NoveL 

By dr. WILLIAM A. HAMMOND. 



rOUBTU EDITION NOW B£ADT. 



SOME OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 

ONE OPINION. 

" *Dr. Grattan,' by William A. Hammond, a novel in which a noisy 
style, cheap learning, and physiological jugglery combine to swamp the 
story and leave the reader in doubt whether ho has brought enough away 
to warrant the trouble he was forced to take to get the treasure."— ^^ton^ 
MoTiihly, 

SOME OTHER AND DIFFERENT OPINIONS. 

" And it is not pleasant, in such a generally fair and helpful review as 
that of ' Books of the Month ' (' Atlantic Monthly *), to stumble on such an 
unfair and misleading judgment as is given of Dr. Hammond's last novel." 
— Literary World (Boston). 

** Dr. Hammond is earning a conspicuous place among our American 
novelists, as well by the rapidity with which he writes as by the ability 
with which he portrays anomalous mental states and conditions. His new 
novel, * Doctor Grattan,' ministers to the curiosity and entertainment of the 
reader, while putting him in possession of some highly interesting informa' 
tion derived from the author's professional experience. Its scene is laid at 
the foot of the Adirondacks, fine descriptions of which, and of the forest 
and village life in and around them, are given in the course of the narra- 
tive. As the story unfolds, close and very charming glimpses are ^ven of 
the household life and the irank and loving comradeship of Doctor Grattan 
and his energetic and beautiful daughter, who soon become prominent act- 
ors in the drama, but toward whom we are drawn with a feeling of cordial 
interest even before we are invited to witness the incidents and companion- 
ships that later on introduced new influences into their secluded lives, and 
invested them with a glamour of mystery and romance. The story em- 
bodies two cleverly developed love stories, which are told with great 
stndghtforwardness and refreshing freedom from, tantalizing oventualities.V 
— Harper's MontTily, 



4 DR. HAMMOND'S NOVELS. 

** Dr. HAmmond constructs the plot of this story with the skill and ap- 
parent ease of the veteran novelist. He deals mainly in improbabilities, 
but he manages to give to these the semblance of reality by the minutely 
circumstantial manner in which the story is related. His coolness and ac- 
curacy of statement overcome all doubt as to the fact he is giving. We 
have the exact hour and minute of an occurrence, as if the good doctor were 
standing by with his watch in his hand. Particulars are ^ven us even 
where a general statement would have been all that we could reasonably 
have asked for. This impresses the mind of the reader with a sense of the 
author's accurate knowledge and unswerving allegiance to the truth. . . . 
The book is written in a style clear, vigorous, and direct. The language 
is free from technicalities which, from the nature of the case, might have 
been looked for. Evidently the author ^ms to secure readers, and he does 
not hesitate to employ legitimate means to that end. He shows such care 
as respect for his readers requires, and only that. He is cramped by no 
pettiness or squeamishness. He succeeds as well in the telling of his story 
as in the contrivance of its plot." — Boston Evening Transcript 

"* Doctor Grattan' is really a capital book. It is a novel with the 
scene laid in America, yet not an * American novel * as we know that prod- 
uct, for which Mr. Hammond (like the hero of * The Witch's Head') ex- 
presses his open contempt. The interest of the story lies in the question 
as to whether Mr. Lamar, the father of the heroine, has been a slave-dealer 
for many years of his life, or whether he has merely brooded on the subject 
till he has imagined that he has dealt in human merchandise. The prob- 
lem is most cleverly worked out, and it would be unfair to Mr. Hammond 
to disclose the solution. Doctor Grattan himself is a pleasant, practical 
man, who makes an excellent and original hero. But Mr. Hammond must 
be congratulated on his ^omGn.^— Saturday Eeview (London). 



12mo, cloth. Price, $1.80. 



New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 1, 8, & 6 Bond Street. 

• II — — . 

D. ApPLETON & Co. WILL PUBLISH EARLY IN THE AUTUMN 

A STRONG-MINDED WOMAN ; or, TWO YEARS AFTER. 

A Sequel to " Lai." 
By William A. Hammond, M. D., 

AUTHOR OF "lAL," " DOCTOR GRATTAN," " MR. OLDMIXON," ETC. 



% 



•^- - . 



PS1784-H49M7 1BB6 C.l 

Mr, OldmUon. 

SUntord UnlvaraRy UbrBrtss 

■illilil^^ 

3 6105 039 680 769 



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